


Slytherin's Princess

by skigirl51



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Good Slytherins, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-06-29 10:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 64,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15727353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skigirl51/pseuds/skigirl51
Summary: What if the Hermione Granger that arrived at Hogwarts was bitter and ambitious? How will the world cope with Slytherin's first muggleborn?





	1. The Sorting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first story on this website, so I hope everyone enjoys.

"Hermione Granger." called Professor McGonagall.

Hermione hurried up to the Sorting Hat, and placed it on her head, careful not to ruin her curls. She had used a special spell to tame them and look acceptable.

Hmmm. Very unique. A mind quite unlike any muggleborns. You seem to have a hatred for your parents! That's new. But where to place you? I know! SLYTHERIN!

Hermione walked down primly and took her seat next to a blonde boy and a pretty black haired girl. Across from her was a dark boy, and next to him was a blonde girl and a black haired boy.

"I'm Draco." the blonde boy said.

"Blaise." said the dark boy.

The black haired girl was Pansy, the blonde girl was Daphne, and the black haired boy was Theo.

"I'm Hermione." she smiled.

"That's a nice name." said Pansy.

Two brutish looking boys joined them.

"This is Crabbe," said Draco gesturing to the one on the left, "and Goyle."

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered except for the Slytherins, and Hermione looked at him uncertainly.

"Is he mad?" she inquired.

"No, just odd. Potatoes?" said Blaise.

Hermione's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

"Why are peppermint humbugs on the table?" she asked.

"Dumbledore likes them." said Daphne, taking a dainty bite of her beef.

A pearly ghost covered in blood and chains rose next to them.

"Welcome to Slytherin." he stated in a mournful tune before floating away, and Hermione stared.

"Never seen a ghost?" Theo teased.

"No actually, never." she fidgeted, looking down and taking a bite of her pork chops.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

Hermione took a treacle tart and turned to the conversation, which was about Draco's family. Apparently they breeded rare creatures, and his father owned the world's only albino peacocks.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of two redheads at the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Hermione noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot, just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the two redheads, who Hermione had learned were the Weasley Twins, were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

"Are we horses?" Daphne muttered, and Hermione giggled.

The Slytherin First Years followed a boy named Elan Parkinson down the winding staircases to the dungeons, where he stopped in front of a plain wall.

"Serpens." he said, and the wall slid open, revealing the dungeons.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.

"Hello." said Parkinson. "I'm Elan Parkinson, the fifth year prefect. Next to me is my counterpart, Jessie Hooper. Our sixth years are Camelia Fudge and Harrison Carrow. Our seventh year prefects are Kayla Mulciber and Antony Stevens."

Kayla picked up. "I want everyone to say their name for me."

"Draco Malfoy."

"Blaise Zabini."

"Pansy Parkinson."

"Daphne Greengrass."

"Theodore Nott."

"Tracy Davis." said a petite brunette.

"Crabbe"

"Goyle"

"Millicent Bulstrode." grunted a girl who resembled Crabbe and Goyle.

"Hermione Granger."

"Granger?" frowned a 3rd year. "That's not a name I've heard."

"It's not." said Hermione, taking a deep breath. "I'm a muggleborn."

Instead of the outburst she expected, there was silence.

"Well now you're Slytherin's muggleborn." said Antony. "Rule 1 of Slytherin is we protect our own. I'll call Professor Snape just to be sure."

Five minutes later a dark haired pale man with sallow skin and greasy hair walked in.

"I hear we have a muggleborn in our house." he said in a silky tone. "Tell me why you deserve to be in our house."

Hermione frowned. "You want me to tell you my private life and feelings?"

Snape looked surprised for a fraction of a second before smoothing his face down. "In a way."

"My name is Hermione Granger. When I was six, I learned that I could move things with my mind. In my world, it's magic, and I could only dream about it. I sought to control it, and in a year, I could. I was so excited." Hermione laughed bitterly. "I ran down to my parents and showed them. But instead of awe or joy, I only saw fear."

Some Slytherin's faces flashed with sympathy.

"I quickly learned that they were scared, and I lost the only support I had. In primary school, I was known as a bushy haired buck-toothed beaver. My parents had been the only people I could go to, but I lost them. Even when I got my Hogwarts letter, they spent hours trying to get me to give it up. Be normal, they said."

Hermione's eyes flashed with anger.

"What they didn't seem to understand is that magic is a part of my, just as much as my eyes and ears. Even if I had a choice, I would never get rid of it. I hid for years after that, seeking refuge in books. When I found that I could come here, I lept at the chance. I want to prove to my parents that they were wrong. That they were wrong to push me away, that they should never have been scared. Honestly, I'd much rather be a witch than a muggleborn, and I want nothing to do with that world."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked around, hoping for acceptance. She found it. She saw pity, sympathy, kindness, and even pride in Professor Snape's face.

"Well done." he said. "I believe that you have been accepted into Slytherin.

"Thank you." Hermione smiled, and Draco grinned at her.

"Ok." said Harrison, breaking the silence. "To bed!"

Hermione walked to the dorm, and she took her hair out of the spell. Her hair popped back into a frizzy mess.

"Whoa." said Pansy. "Your hair!"

"Yeah." Hermione sighed. "I had to use a spell to tame it."

"I have some taming shampoo you could borrow." offered Daphne.

"I'd love to borrow it." Hermione smiled. Pulling on a ratty purple t-shirt and a pair of shorts, she tied her hair up.

"Don't you have anything better?" sneered Tracy Davis, who was in a silky silver nightie.

"These are comfortable." said Hermione shrugging, before she closed the curtains around her.

"Lay off." she heard Millicent say in an annoyed voice.

Slowly, Hermione drifted to sleep.


	2. Classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione attends her classes in first year, and quickly finds the benefits of being a Slytherin.

Hermione woke up to a bucket of water in her face. Spluttering, she sat up to see Pansy smirking at her, while Tracy Davis came out of the shower.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because you need to wake up. We only have an hour."

"That's a lot of time." she pointed out.

"True, but Slytherin's all go down together." Pansy pointed out.

Grumbling, Hermione swung herself out of bed and dragged herself into the shower. Using the shampoo Daphne gave her, she dried it magically with a spell she read about.

"Ready?" Daphne called.

"Ready." she smiled, pulling on her green lined robes and tie.

"Push your hair back with something." recommended Pansy.

"I don't have anything." Hermione blushed.

"Here," said Pansy, "You can use my head band."

Hermione tucked the green headband into her chestnut curls. They were her pride, and were dark brown with light brown interspersed in it.

"Ready." said Elan Parkinson, and all the Slytherin's marched down to breakfast.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Hermione was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but he would ignore all Slytherins. Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

All in all, this was the best school Hermione had ever attended.

Sitting down for breakfast with her friends from last night, she pulled a bowl of oatmeal and fruit to her.

"You didn't tell us you were a muggleborn!" accused Draco.

"I didn't think it would matter." she said lightly.

"It doesn't," he reassured her, "but it would have been nice to know from one of my friends." Hermione dropped her spoon.

"We're friends?" she said tentatively.

"Yup!" said Blaise cheerfully, reaching over for syrup on his pancakes.

"I've never had friends before." she murmured.

"Never?" said Pansy.

"Never." she replied.

"That's sad." said Crabbe. Hermione was surprised he could speak.

"We'll have to fix that then!" Draco said cheerfully, and Hermione smiled.

"Come on." said Pansy. "Time for charms."

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

"Who's that?" Hermione whispered to Theo, gesturing to a skinny black haired boy with glasses

"That's Harry Potter." he replied.

"Why did Flitwick seem so excited at him?"

"Don't you know?" he stared. "He saved the world from the Dark Lord, who was set on killing all muggles. Unfortunately, the light side botched it up and said he wanted to kill muggleborns too. He didn't believe in that, but you had to give up the muggle world completely."

"Come on!" said Draco. "To Transfiguration!"

Professor McGonagall was again different. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only a few Slytherins and one Gryffindor did anything. Lily Moon, Gryffindor, made hers pointy and silver. Hermione had the needle shape and it was silver, but it was made of wood still. Draco's was silver and metal, but in the shape of a match.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan, Gryffindor, asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Carrow Twins insisted that it was stuffed with garlic.

Flora and Hestia Carrow, in their third year, were Slytherin's version of the Weasley Twins, but they were sneakier.

Hermione was very relieved to find out that she wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like her, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards.

"What have we got today?" Blaise asked Hermione as she poured sugar on her porridge.

Before Hermione could answer, Pansy interrupted her." You boys!" she screeched. "I see no fruits or vegetables on your plates." she glared at Draco, Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Do you all want to be fat?" she demanded.

"No mother." Draco muttered, and she threw a scathing glare at him before promptly ignoring him.

"Anyway," said Hermione, "We have Double Potions with the Gryffindors. Flora and Hestia told me that he favors us, so we should be all right."

"Yes!" Draco pumped his fist in the air.

"What?" said Daphne.

"Snape's my godfather, so he has to give us preferential treatment." he boasted.

"Excellent." Blaise smirked.

"But isn't that cheating?" said Hermione uncertainly.

"NO." Theo told her. "We only use advantages given to us."

"Ok." she relented.

Just then, the mail arrived. Hermione had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Artemis, her owl, hadn't brought Hermione anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Hermione's tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Hermione,

Don't bother coming home for Christmas or Easter. We don't want to be near the magic.

-Mother and Father

Hermione felt tears pooling in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked, concerned for his friend.

"My parents." she answered honestly. "Don't come home, they said. Don't want to be near magic. I wrote them a heartfelt letter about magic and they don't even care." she chuckled bitterly, and wiped away a tear. She thought of the letter she had written.

Dear Mother and Father,

I know we don't get along well but I was hoping that you guys could try to understand magic a little. The classes are amazing! We have moving staircases and talking portraits. I was sorted into Slytherin, one of the houses, by the sorting hat.

-Hermione

"It's all right." Daphne consoled her.

"It's not alright." she sniped. "My parents hate me and don't accept me for who I am."

"I could ask my parents if I could invite you home for Christmas." Draco offered.

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense! I will write father and mother right away." he said flippantly.

Hermione noticed all her friends opening packages.

"What are those?" she asked curiously.

"For purebloods, on the first Friday of the school year, our parents send us a gift saying they approve of our sorting. If they don't, we usually stay home for Christmas." Draco explained.

Hermione was about to say something, but was cut off by Pansy's squeal. In her hands was a drop dead gorgeous emerald necklace, with a large stone in the middle.

"Look!" she gushed.

"It's beautiful." Hermione complemented, trying not to feel a pang in her heart.

Daphne pulled out a beautiful set of emerald green robes, and Draco had a box of sweets. Crabbe and Goyle each got a box of food, while Theo got a stack of books. Blaise got a letter and a ring.

"My heir ring!" he exclaimed, staring at it in awe.

"What?" Pansy shrieked, elbowing Theo aside to look at it.

"Watch out woman!" he grumbled.

"What's so special about an heir ring?" Hermione asked.

"This ring means that when my mother dies, I will take over the family fortune. Most people don't get this until they are 17." said Blaise.

"Blaise is lucky too." informed Daphne. "His mother is one of the richest witches in the world."

"Anastasia Zabini." said Pansy. "The Black Widow."

"Come on!" said Goyle. "Potions."

"They can speak?" whispered Hermione teasingly.

"Yes we can." Crabbe grunted, and giggling, Hermione walked to Potions.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle snickered, while Hermione watched him in rapture. This was the lesson she looked forward to the most.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed his little speech. "Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Lily Moon shot her hand up.

Hermione started to raise her hand, but Theo tugged it down.

"But I know the answer!" she hissed.

"It doesn't matter. Don't act like a swot. If he wants you to raise your hand, he will ask. This is addressed to Potter."

"Fine." Hermione relented, easing her hand down.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Moon's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Lily stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle shook with silent laughter, and even Hermione chuckled. This was basic!

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Snape was still ignoring Lily's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Lily stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Lily does, though, why don't you try her?"

Hermione stared at his audacity.

"Sit down," he snapped at Lily. "Can anyone tell me the answer?"

At this, Theo nodded, and Hermione raised her hand.

"Granger?"

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." she recited.

"Excellent." he praised. "Clearly not everyone is a dunderhead. That will be 15 points to Slytherin. Everyone write this down. And one point will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek Potter."

Soon they were starting on the boil cure potion. Hermione read through her book. She had bought a special edition with hints, and why you did what.

Crush the phosphorus beans, don't cut them, because it lets more juice out.

When Theo was about to cut the beans, she stopped him.

"Crush them." she instructed.

"Why?" he asked blankly.

"It lets more juice out."

He did as instructed, and immediately the potion turned the bright orange it was supposed to be.

"Add three horned slugs, not two. And add an extra pinch of knotgrass."

"Why?"

"Horned Slugs slime are what the main ingredient is in curing boils. It will be better if you add an extra, but to stop it from being explosive, you add knotgrass to balance it."

Theo did that, and grinned as the potion turned lilac. Hermione stirred, and soon it was dark green. She took the cauldron off the fire, and added Porcupine quills. After adding a pinch of nettle grass, the potion was done, and was at it's perfect shade of , meanwhile, was sweeping around the dungeon criticizing all the Gryffindors.

He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Draco giggled, and Hermione opened her mouth to protest, before Theo hit her with a silencing charm. She glared at him, and he took it off.

"That's unfair!" she ranted. "Why didn't you let me protest?"

"Because it gives Slytherin an advantage." he said.

"But it's unfair."

"It doesn't matter. Besides, they deserve it."

Hermione muttered under her breath before taking the potion and bottling it, keeping a vial for herself. Snape swept around, looking at their potions. None of them were as good as her's and Theo's. He looked at them strangely.

"Miss Granger and Mr Nott, stay after class."

After class was over they packed up and lingered.

"I have never seen a potion this good, and I noticed that you added knotgrass, even though it isn't an ingredient. Why?" he asked.

"It was me." said Hermione, bowing her head.

"Mr Nott, you can leave."

Theo rushed out with a smile at her.

"Why did you add the knotgrass Granger?"

Hermione blushed, before looking up at his scrutinizing stare. "I got some extra potion books and learned about what each ingredient does, and why it is added to what potion. After that, I went with my logic. Instead of adding two horned slugs I added three, because that makes the potion more potent. It would explode if I added the porcupine quills after, but to balance the slugs out, I added knotgrass, which is known to balance out potions."

Hermione fidgeted. Why didn't he say anything?

"25 points to Slytherin Granger." he said finally. Hermione looked up in shock.

"What?"

"I have never seen a student change a potion so deftly and make it work. If you would like, I am offering extra potion lessons every Thursday after dinner."

Hermione could have jumped for joy, but she kept her mien. "I would love to sir."

After leaving the room and going to dinner, she was bombarded with questions.

"Why did he ask you to stay behind?" Blaise asked.

"I changed the potion." Hermione admitted.

"But that's dangerous!" said Draco with wide eyes.

"I know, but I had read up and I was balancing it out and it worked and I got 25 points and lessons with Snape!" she said in a rush.

"Wow." said Daphne. "That's rare."

"Guys!" said Pansy, calling them over. "Look at this!" She showed them a cut from the Daily Prophet.

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

By Aurora Smitha

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

"Someone broke into Gringotts?" said Blaise.

"No duh." sniped Pansy.

Back in the common room Crabbe pulled them over to the bulletin board.

"Look!" he grunted. "Flying lessons!"

"Excellent!" said Pansy.

"I've been flying since I was three." bragged Draco.

"Is it hard?" said Hermione uncertainly.

"Of course not!" said Draco, who loved Quidditch.

"Come on!" said Daphne. "We can get some brooms from the older students and teach you!"

Getting a bunch of Cleansweep 750's, the group ran outside.

"Ok Hermione." Draco instructed, taking control. "Say UP to the broom. You want to be confident and pull your magic to the broom."

"UP!" said Hermione. It didn't come up.

"UP!" she said more forcefully, tugging at her magic, and it flew up.

"I did it!" she exclaimed.

"Good." praised Draco. "Now kick off from the ground hard, and try hovering. When you can hover, tilt left to go left and right to go right. To accelerate, lean forward. To slow down, pull back."

"Kind of like riding a horse." Hermione mused.

Slowly, she pushed up off the ground. Inhaling sharply, she stopped and balanced herself, before accelerating a little. Up, down, to the left, down, to the right, up.

"This is rather fun!" said Hermione.

"I know." said Pansy, as they put away the brooms. "You probably would have been scared to death if you learned from Hooch, because according to Elan, she doesn't teach well. Now we can practice and learn. You could actually get on the team!"

"Maybe." chuckled Hermione. "I probably would have been scared to death of brooms if she taught me."

"Definitely." Daphne said, rolling her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh look!" Pansy exclaimed one day at breakfast. "Longbottom's got a remembrall!"

"Come on, let's look at it." said Draco. He had never seen a remembrall before.

Passing the table, Draco snatched it from Longbottom's hand and looked at it. Potter and Weasley jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Draco, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Draco quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking." he muttered, walking away.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Hermione, Pansy, and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Gryffindor were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Hermione had heard Flora and Hestia Carrow complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Hermione glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. Seriously? Even the poorest Slytherins had better brooms than these.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Hermione's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. It was because she knew how. Lily Moon's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Hermione; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground. Scaredy cat.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Potter and Weasley were delighted when she told Dracohe'd been doing it wrong for years; Hermione glared at them.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two-"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -

WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Hermione heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in. Even Hermione giggled. It wasn't that hard!

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Draco, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Draco," said Potter quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Draco smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Potter yelled, but Draco had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Lily Moon. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble."

Harry ignored her. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him - on the ground Gryffindor girls gasped, while Weasley whooped. Hermione just glared. Why did he have to do that?

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair. Draco looked stunned. He was not ready to face someone head on.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Draco, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Potter shot at Draco like a javelin, almost knocking him off. Hermione gasped.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Draco.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Potter dove down towards the ball, scooping it up near the grass and landing.

"HARRY POTTER!"

McGonagall was running towards them, and Hermione grinned maliciously. Now he would get in trouble for trying to hurt another student.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts-"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, " - how dare you - might have broken your neck-"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor-"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil-"

"But Draco-"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

"Idiot." Draco snorted once they were out of earshot, and Hermione laughed with them.

Soon, Madame Hooch came back.

"Good! Everyone mount your brooms and float up. If you can, turn a little, but go higher so you don't disturb the others."

Hermione mounted and shot up, not like Potter had, but not slow.

"Excellent." Daphne praised.

"Here," said Draco, "let's have a little fun. Follow me!"

He dove down, and Hermione followed, though not as fast, she pulled up slowly and carefully near the bottom, stopping near Draco.

"That was fun!" she exclaimed.

"I know." he replied smugly.

At dinner the group saw Potter and Weasley conversing with smiles emblazoned on their faces.

"Come on." Hermione urged. "Let's go see what happened."

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" Draco sneered as he strutted up with Vincent, Greg, Hermione, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Draco surveyed them carefully before looking at Blaise, who was the best at spells among them. "Blaise." he declared. Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

Draco strutted away, barely restraining his laughter. He managed to get to the common room, "Imperialist." before bursting into guffaws.

"You're not actually going to go, are you?" Hermione said in a worried tone.

"Of course not Mione." he said, waving his hand dismissively. "But I'm sure Filch would love to hear about two students out of bed at night."

Pansy grinned wickedly. "Excellent.' she declared.

Draco couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful.

"How the hell are they still here?" he yelped.

"You tell me." Hermione grumbled.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. It was dropped in front of Potter.

"Is that a broom?" Draco muttered.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them." He had done his best to be allowed his broom, but the rules said no.

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Hermione quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, it is," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

Later that evening Hermione could be seen ranting in the common room.

"It's not fair! When most people break the rules they're punished. But when he breaks the rules, he's rewarded!"

"We know it's not fair." grumbled Pansy. "Potter's the bloody savior. Of course he gets privileges."

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Longbottom's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Hermione was with Daphne, Pansy with Draco, and Theo with Blaise. To their amusement, Weasley was paired with Moon, and both looked immensely disgruntled.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was quite a difficult spell. After about 5 minutes Hermione managed it.

"Oh look!" Flitwick squeaked. "Miss Granger has done it! Ten points to Slytherin!"

"How did you do it?" Blaise asked curiously.

"I envisioned it." Hermione explained. "I envisioned the feather floating and told it to float."

"Ok." he said uncertainly. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

His feather flew up slowly, and Hermione smiled. Soon, all the Slytherins could do it, and a few Gryffs.

At dinner Hermione entered the Great Hall, when Pansy was about to tell her something, but she was distracted by the amazing decorations. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

"Sorry, What?" Hermione asked, sitting down. Pansy glared at her.

"You weren't listening, were you?"

"No." Hermione replied. "I was distracted by the decorations."

"Fine." she sighed dramatically, and Hermione stifled a giggle. Pansy was always so dramatic. "Lily Moon, the mudblood, has been crying in the bathroom the entire day since Charms because of some insincere comment Weasley said. Parvati Patil told me. We're on good terms since we were childhood friends."

Before Hermione could answer, Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Elan was in his mode as a prefect. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Hermione asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Pansy. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

"Even Peeves wouldn't do that." she said doubtfully. When they reached the common room, everyone sat down, buzzing with news. The group of friends sank down near some green and silver tasseled cushions next to the fireplace. Half an hour later, Snape walked in.

"Slytherins." he said to the eager group of students. "The troll was subdued by a certain Mr Potter, who has again showed that he is a foolhardy Gryffindor. That is all."

Hermione noticed something. "Why is he limping?"

"I don't know." Theo murmured.

"Again!" Pansy ranted. "They were told to go to their rooms, but NO! That idiot goes chasing after a Mountain Troll! And then, thanks to dumb luck, he is rewarded! Again!"

"What did you expect?" Daphne laughed bitterly. "They're Gryffindors."


	4. Chapter 4

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots. Hermione was wandering the halls alone, thinking when she heard a voice.

"What have we hear? A small Slytherin Snake, all alone."

Hermione spun around, starting to get scared. The speaker was a blond Gryffindor who Hermione barely recognized as a boy named Charles Cadence.

Hermione tried lowering her head and brushing past him, but was stopped by his friend, and equally mean looking boy.

"Please let me go." she said, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. Why were they doing this to her?

"I don't think so." the black haired boy sneered.

"You see," said the blonde one, "We don't like slimy snakes who act like they own the castle, so we're here to teach you a lesson. Ready Grinal?"

"Ready." Grinal nodded, and Hermione recognized him. Gidion Grinal, Gryffindor 6th year.

Grinal punched her in the stomach, and with a small gasp, Hermione doubled over in pain. She glared up at them. Hadn't she gone through this enough in Primary School?

"Aren't you not supposed to hit girls?" she spat.

"You're not a girl, you're a Slytherin." Cadence sneered.

Suddenly one of them punched her nose and she fell to the ground, blood streaming from it, and seeing stars. She felt a hex hit her arm and this time she couldn't help but cry out in pain as it was wrenched from it's position.

"Not so good are you now, huh?" Cadence sneered. Hermione spat blood at them in defiance, and the next moment she was on the ground writhing in pain. They had kicked her ribs, and woozily she noticed that one of her ribs had punctured her lungs. This was all Hermione knew before she blacked out.

When Hermione came to, all she knew was that she was in a very warm place, and all she could see was white. Slowly, she regained her bearings. What had happened? She remembered that two boys had ambushed her, but from there here memory was woozy. Hermione groaned. She was parched.

"Oh!" Madame Pomfrey, the Healer, bustled to her. "You're awake! Here." Madame P tilted her head and gave her water. Hermione took it all like a drought victim, gulping it and clutching the glass like her life depended on it.

"What happened?" she croaked, once she was done with the water.

"You were ambushed by two people, we don't know who. Prefect Elan Parkinson found you during his patrols and brought you here. The audacity!" she tutted. "Attacking a young girl like this."

"What was the damage?" Hermione asked quietly, not really wanting to know.

Madame Pomfrey gave her a sympathetic look. "A dislocated arm, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken nose, and a concussion." she listed, and Hermione felt queasy, barely suppressing the feeling she had of dry retching.

"How long have I been out?"

"Nearly three days. You're friends visited, and left tokens." she said, pointing to her bedstand.

Hermione stared at the tiny pile of presents. She almost never had gotten a present! There was a box of chocolate frogs from Blaise, a card from Theo, another card from Daphne, a book from Tracy, and a small card from Elan. The last gift was a vase of deep red roses from Draco. She smiled. Deep red roses meant heartfelt regret and sorrow. Hermione smiled.

"When can I leave?" she asked.

"Not yet!" Madame Pomfrey scolded. "Dumbledore needs to come in and talk to you about who attacked."

"Ok." said Hermione, feeling hopeful. Now those two boys had to be expelled!

"Ah, Miss Granger." said Dumbledore in his grandfatherly tone. His robes were bright blue with golden dots on them. Hermione knew exactly what Pansy would say to them. Garish!

"Hello Headmaster." said Hermione, sitting up.

"I was hoping you could reveal to me who attacked you so I could have them arrested." he said.

"Two Gryffindors." said Hermione clearly. "Charles Cadence and Gideon Grinal."

"Ah." said Dumbledore shortly, and Hermione saw a weird expression flash across his face.

"Miss Granger, I am going to need proof of thee accusations."

Hermione stared at him suspiciously. "How can I provide proof?" she asked.

"I'm afraid there is no proper way without Veritaserum, but it is illegal to give it to minors. I'm afraid my hands are tied in this situation."

Hermione could do nothing but gape at him. She was attacked and he could do nothing? He was the headmaster for Merlin's sake!

"Thank you sir." she said, unable to keep the bite out of her voice. Walking back to the dungeons, she had a million thoughts rolling through her head.

"Passere." Hermione said to the wall, and it slid open. When she walked in, the common room was silent, before bursting into noise.

"What happened?"

"Are you alright?"

"Where have you been?"

"Who hurt you?"

"Wait!" Hermione shouted, unable to cope with all the questions. The room quieted.

"I was attacked." she admitted. "By two Gryffindor 6th years, Charles Cadence and Gideon Grinal."

"I know those two." said a 3rd year, Amelie Wilkes. "They attacked me when I was in my first year too. Dumbledore again did nothing."

"I'll kill them." Elan Parkinson hissed, a murderous look on his face.

"Don't." said Marcus Flint, with a sour look on his face. "I remember many attacks in my years so far, and each time a Slytherin was attacked, nothing was done. A few years ago, after a Slytherin 6th year attacked a Gryffindor 5th year for putting her cousin in St. Mungos, she was expelled for the attack on the lion, even though there was no proof. Dumbledore just won't hurt his precious lions."

"That's biased!" Hermione shriekd.

"You don't say." he drawled, and the reality of Hermione's situation set in. She had been attacked, and nothing would happen to her attackers because of her house.

Hermione went to sit down with her friends, and Blaise immediately made room for her.

"They're going to be punished right? Didn't Dumbledore listen to you?" said Pansy worriedly.

Hermione laughed bitterly. "As if. Dumbledore said that since there is not proof, nothing can be done."

"WHAT!" Pansy shrieked loudly, and Hermione winced. Damn Pansy and her mother goose instincts. "YOU'RE ATTACKED AND DUMBLEDORE GIVES NO PUNISHMENT! Of ALL THE …" Pansy went into a long winded rant about unfairness and no justice.

"Are you alright Princess?" asked Blaise.

"I'm fine." Hermione replied. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, widening her eyes. "I missed one of my Potions lessons!" and Hermione rushed off to his office.

"Professor sir!" she exclaimed in his office, skidding in. "I'm so sorry for missing your lesson, but I was attacked. It was right on the day of our lesson, and -" Hermione was babbling.

"Miss Granger, it is alright. I am more concerned about your welfare."

"I'm fine sir. Is there anyway I can make up the lessons?"

"We will just continue from where we left off next Thursday."

"Thank you sir!" she said, going back to the dungeons.

"Come on Hermione!" Draco wheedled. "Please?" Hermione glared at him before sighing in resignation.

"Fine." she grumbled. "I'll read the stupid quidditch books."

"Yes!" Draco cheered. Even though Hermione wouldn't admit it, they were quite interesting. Hermione learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Soon it was time for the match, and Hermione walked out to the stands bundled up in scarves with omnioculars in her hands. Soon the game started.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc - no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Damn it!" Draco cursed. "Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

"Come on!" Blaise bellowed. "Don't be distracted!"

Harry Potter started chasing the Snitch, Terrence Higgs right behind him. WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course.

"Yes!" Hermione said.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul..."

"Jordan, I'm warning you-"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Hermione scowled at him. "They should get a less biased commentator."

"As if that will happen." Pansy snorted.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor - Slytherins score - A no..."

The Slytherins were cheering.

"Yes!" Daphne said.

"What's Potter's broom doing?" Theo asked.

Potter's broom was slowly flying away from the game and zig zagging. Potter himself was hanging on for dear life.

"Hope he get's knocked off." said Draco, glaring at the boy.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Damn." Blaise whistled. "I hate the guy, but you have to admit, he has guts."

His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Well at least we're catching up." Hermione muttered.

Suddenly, his broom stopped.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference - Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results - Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

"I hate this game." Hermione moaned, and Draco snorted.

"If I was playing we would have won."

"Keep dreaming." Theo retorted, and the boy started bickering.

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Slytherin common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons. Snape had come to the common room one day and taught them all warming charms until most of them could cast it nonverbally.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

Hermione snickered at Potter with her friends. She was going to Malfoy Manor. Carefully, she added spine of lionfish, and some boomslang skin, before handing the rod to Blaise for stirring. Soon the class was over, and Hermione turned in her perfect potion in like usual, keeping a vial for herself. They left the class, before finding themselves blocked by Hagrid, Potter, and Weasley.

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" Draco drawled. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

The group of friends pushed past them, and Hermione glared at them. "Do those barbarians have to resort to violence for everything?"

"Yes." smirked Blaise.

"It was a rhetorical question Blaise." she snapped.

"You're pretty when you're angry Princess." he smirked again, and Hermione flounced off with a huff.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione looked around Malfoy Manor in awe. The walls were marble, and the floor granite. Large golden windows bigger than her let light stream in, and portraits hung on the walls.

"Like it?" Draco smirked.

"It's amazing!" she said, unable to keep the awe out of her voice. The two spent the days talking, flying, and playing chess. Hermione had always sucked at the game, and she lost to Draco very quickly, leading to her grumpiness. Soon, It was Christmas Eve, and Hermione went to bed.

When she woke the next morning, she saw a small pile of packages at the foot of her bed. She gaped for a few moments. The only presents she had received as a child were from her parents, and after her reveal about magic, none.

"What did you expect?" Draco smirked, sauntering in with his presents.

"I haven't actually received presents for years." Hermione said, a lump in her throat.

"Well you deserve them Princess. Come on!" he urged. "Open up!"

Her first present was from Draco. It was a beautiful marble chess set. Her next gift was a beautiful set of earrings from Daphne. They were silver snakes with emerald eyes whose tails wrapped around to the top of her earlobe. Hermione smirked. This was why Daphne had all the girls pierce their ears during Christmas shopping.

Pansy sent her some hair accessories, while Theo and Blaise sent her books. The most surprising was from Professor Snape, who sent her a book on Potions. This would make her notes much easier, as Hermione had taken to jotting down her corrections in her books. Hermione got nothing from her parents.

"I can't believe I got presents." Hermione giggled, and Draco grinned.

"It gets better. The gang are coming over for a Christmas dinner. Vince, Greg, Daph and her little sister Stori, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Millicent, and Tracy. A few of the older kids will come like Elan and Marcus Flint and the rest."

"Excellent!" Hermione cheered.

"What my son didn't tell you is that it's a formal party." came the smooth voice of Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione thought that if anyone would be put on the covers of a magazine as a society wife, it was her. She was perfect.

"Oh." Hermione grimaced." She did not do well with formal.

"Don't worry." Mrs Malfoy continued. "I have it all planned out already."

"You didn't have to do that Mrs Malfoy." Hermione blushed. Here she was a guest and they were doing so much for her.

"Nonsense." the woman waved it away.

That evening Hermione was treated like a doll. After a relaxing bath, Her hair was pulled to the side, the curls natural. Hermione had on dark lipstick and dark green eyeshadow. Her dress was an amazing dark green thing with a halter top and a flowy skirt. Hermione paired the earrings Daphne gave her with it and pulled on silver sandals.

"You look amazing." Mrs. Malfoy complimented. She was in a navy blue dress with a gold and white torso. Her makeup was light, but the heavy blue necklace and the large blue earrings she wore made up for it.

"You too Mrs. Malfoy." Hermione said, and she went down to the side room of the Dining Hall.

When she walked in, she immediately went to Pansy and Daphne. Pansy was in a scarlet red dress, and Daphne was in a purple dress with silver gems on it.

"You guys look amazing." Hermione gushed.

"You too." Daphne complimented.

"OK!" Marcus Flint bellowed. "Everyone pair up!"

"Why?" Hermione asked in confusion.

He chuckled. "I forgot you haven't done this before. We walk into the dining room with partners." he explained.

Hermione was paired with Draco. Theo was with Daphne, Pansy with Blaise, Tracy with Vince, and Milli with Greg. Stori ended up with Theo's younger brother Quincy, and the older kids paired up. They went in from oldest to youngest. Soon, it was Hermione's turn.

"Ready?" Draco asked with a grin.

"Ready." she smiled, and they walked in. Hermione, looking at the adults, could tell who was whose parent. Elora Zabini, currently single since her last husband so tragically died, was stunning, in a violet gown to match her violet eyes and mocha skin, with silky black locks. Theo's mom had died when he was little, but his dad was a fairly average looking person with black hair. What really matched him to Theo was their smiles. They had the same impish smiles.

Daphne's dad shared her color of blonde hair, while Pansy's mom had the same nose as her- small with a tiny upturn at the end.

"Let the feast begin." announced Mr Malfoy, and food popped in.

"I always wondered," said Hermione, taking a bite of her salad, "Where does the food come from?"

"House elves." answered Astoria Greengrass. Stori was the opposite of her sister- black hair and brown eyes with slightly chubby cheeks, while Daphne was pale and blonde with hollow cheeks. The only resemblance the two girls had were their cunning eyes.

"What are house elves?" Hermione asked.

"I'll show you one later." said Draco.

"Basically they are small creatures who serve us." said Marcus.

"Isn't that slavery?" asked Hermione.

"NO." said Blaise, nipping her thoughts in the bud. "House Elves like serving their masters. Without the master bonds, they would die. Don't even think about it princess."

"I'm not!" said Hermione, raising her hands innocently.

"Yes, you were." the entire table chorused, and Hermione glared at them, though without any real heat. The rest of the dinner went wonderfully, and Hermione found herself having the best Christmas in a very long time. This was what Christmas was supposed to be. Not for the first time that break, Hermione found herself wishing that the Malfoy's were her family.

The rest of the break was the same. When they went back to Hogwarts Hermione enveloped herself in Potions studies. It was her favorite subject easily, and Hermione found herself changing the potions more and more. She would add nettles, knotgrass, lacewing flies, and even a few of Snape's rare drops of Occamy Venom. Most of the times her potions were sent to the Hospital Wing to be used, since this year was mostly healing potions. Hermione would keep the ones for herself just in case people needed healing.

"Guess what?" Draco smirked.

"Chicken Butt." Hermione deadpanned, and Blaise burst into guffaws, while everyone else stared at her. Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her book.

"I hexed Longbottom." Draco smirked.

"With what?" Pansy asked eagerly.

"The leg locker curse."

"Excellent." Theo smirked.

Hermione was sitting in the stands bundled up wondering why for the 15th time was she at a Quidditch Game.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," Ron Weasley was telling Lily Moon. "Look - they're off. Ouch!"

Draco had just poked him in the back of his head.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Draco grinned broadly at them, and Hermione smiled before returning to her book.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Lily, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch. Hermione watched carefully. Couldn't anyone see that Snape was not steady on his broom. It was obvious that he didn't want to be there.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville." Hermione snorted at him before turning his hair green with a quiet hex.

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy - one more word-"

"Ron!" said Lily suddenly, "Harry-"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Lily stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

"Stop it!" Hermione shrieked, hexing Weasley with the Leg Locker Curse. He face planted in the stands. She was about to get Longbottom, but noticed that Crabbe and Goyle had it.

"Here, are you alright?" Hermione asked Draco.

"No." he grumbled, sporting a black eye.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. Boys. "Come here."

He came to her.

"Sana Livore." she murmured, and his black eye disappeared. "Should we help them?" she asked, looking at the scuffle of Vince, Greg, and Longbottom.

"Naw." Draco said easily.

"Come on, Harry!" Lily screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape - she didn't even notice the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches - the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Damn it!" Hermione cursed. "Again!"

"Bloody again." Pansy said gloomily.

As time passed, Hermione had more on her mind than Quidditch- the finals were coming. She had started drawing up study schedules and color coding all her notes. It was a Slytherin rule that around this time, the older kids would give them any of the questions they remembered to the exams so that the younger students could review.

Though the exams were ages away, all the Slytherins had drawn up study plans, unlike the Gryffindors, who Lily could be heard nagging.

The teachers thought the same as her. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones.

Hermione was talking with Draco about studying when Draco overheard something.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered urgently.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Potter and Weasel are talking about dragons and Hagrid!" he said.

Hermione got a speculative look on her face. "It would be nice to get them in trouble." she admitted.

"I can go spy on them." he said.

Later that evening he came back.

"The oaf is breeding a Norwedgian Ridgeback!" he exclaimed.

"Idiot." commented Pansy derisively.

A week later, Draco came in holding a book.

"Look!" he said exultantly.

"What?" asked Theo, annoyed for being disturbed from his studies.

"This letter about the dragon." he said, and the group crowded around it.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love,

Charlie

"Midnight on Saturday." said Blaise quietly.

"Who should go to rat the out?" said Daphne.

"I want to." said Draco with an evil grin.

"Very well." said Pansy. "Midnight on Saturday.

Draco was caught, and none of them believed him about the dragon. He was given detention. "Absolute idiots." he snarled.

"On the good side, Gryffindor lost 150 points." piped up Pansy.

"Yeah." Blaise grinned. Potter had become very hated at school, because all the houses wanted Slytherin to lose.

Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.

Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.

Professor McGonagall

"How was your detention?" Hermione asked when he got back. Draco was pale.

"Bloody horrible. We had to go into the Forbidden Forest."

"That has to be illegal!" Daphne shouted.

"I can write to father about it." said Draco gloomily.

"This is Dumbledore's school." Hermione scoffed. "Not one bloody thing will happen."


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione was stressed. It was the day of the exams! It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anticheating spell. Hermione snorted. As if she would cheat.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox - points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented selfstirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Hermione couldn't help but cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"Hush Hermione." chided Daphne. "Don't ruin my good mood."

"Guess what?" said Elan, rushing in.

"Chicken butt." Hermione deadpanned again, and this time everyone burst into laughter. Hermione high fived Blaise.

"No." he scowled. "Potter's in the hospital wing!"

"Is he dead?" asked Pansy eagerly.

"Injured?" asked Daphne.

"Maimed?" finished Hermione.

"I don't know exactly what." he said, rolling his eyes.

"Well at least he's hurt." remarked Blaise.

"Bloody Potter." Draco grumbled.

Hermione sat in the Great Hall and looked around. It was already the end of the year, and so much had changed. No longer was she the bushy haired bookworm with no friends. Now she had friends, her hair was normal, and most importantly, she was happy.

The Great Hall was amazing. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Potter walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once.

"Damn." Draco grouched. "I was hoping he wouldn't come."

Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. This was the one time of year that Slytherins stopped holding all manners in public and acted like the children they were. Hermione hooted and hollered with them.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes...

"First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

Hermione couldn't believe it. "A chess game?" she said in disbelief.

"Just you watch." said Elan darkly, leaning over his friend Emma to talk to them. "Gryffindor is going to win this for sure."

At last there was silence again.

"Second - to Miss Lily Moon... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Lily buried her face in her arms; Hermione strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves - they were a hundred points up.

"Third - to Mr. Harry Potter... " said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup - if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

"NO!" Pansy shrieked.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Hermione was frozen in shock. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. Slytherins had worked hard the entire year to fairly earn points, and now it was taken away from them. They had come ready for a party and now they would watch as others celebrated their loss. It was cruel.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place.

"I told you." said Elan grimly. "This is Dumbledore's school, which means that Slytherins can't win."

"It's not fair." whispered Hermione.

"Who said life was fair?" asked Theo, his shoulders shaking as he resisted crying.

Soon bags were packed and wardrobes empty.

"You'll write, right?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Everyday princess." Draco promised, and Hermione squared her shoulders. Now she would have to go home, back to where she had no support. Hermione trudged to her parents. Dan and Emma Granger, both with brown hair and brown eyes. They looked scared to be around so much magic.

"Bye Hermione!" Daphne called, and Hermione waved back, worries forgotten for a moment.

"Bye Daph!" she called.


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Hermione,

I promised to write every day, didn't I. Technically Drake did, but meh. Schematics. How is life going with the muggles? Have you been driven mad yet? More mad than you already are? I'm so glad we have letters, or I would be bruised from your punches right now. Violent woman. Last year I realized we never celebrated your birthday, so Happy belated Birthday. You're older than all of us now, an amazing 13 years old! Lord it over Pansy please. I swear, she is more insufferable than ever!

By the way, looked what those harpies convinced me to do. I have enclosed a picture, and they made me pierce my ear with a diamond! I must admit though, I look dashing. More dashing than I already am.

The hottest boy alive,

Blaise

Hermione burst into laughs as she read it, and pulled out the magical photo. Blaise was grinning and laughing with Pans and Daph, a large diamond sparkling in his right earlobe.

Dear Blaise,

You look amazing with the piercing! Maybe Daph can get you a snake like ours and we can match. Also, the moment we see each other you are in for a punching Zabini. Accept it, and hide. I am not mad! *shrieking* You don't have to write me everyday, or Artemis will go crazy. Remember to feed her owl treats.

I miss you all a lot. I forgot what it was like here. I lord it over all the girls who used to make fun of me now though. It feels wonderful! After all, I go to an exclusive, private boarding school in Scotland and all my friends are bloody rich! I only had to wear the necklace Pansy got me to make them go all green. And not a nice Slytherin green, but a dirty green.

I know I sound mean, but these girls were horrible to me when I was younger. Have you finished your homework yet? You better, because I will not help you at all.

Love,

Mione

Dear Hermione,

You go! Make those bitches feel jealous. I have finished my homework sadly.

-Blaise

Hermione Jean Granger,

I have not heard from you for a WEEK! I am so worried! You will write miss, or I will bunk up to your house and hex you good and proper. I don't care if we aren't allowed to use magic. Right?

Ok, how have you been? Did you see Blaise's piercing? Did you like it? I miss you Mione, and let me tell you that you will never have to worry about being called something like a Mudblood from Slytherins. We accept you. Now send me a letter.

Love,

Pansy

Dear Pansy,

Are you nuts! You basically sent me a letter yelling at me. Reading it, I burst into laughter during breakfast and snorted milk out of my nose! My parents just stared at me like I was crazy. Nothing new.

Anyway, I miss you Pans! We have to meet this summer. I have been fine, and I took your advice of lording how good life is over my former bullies. By the Way, since Blaise pissed me off, you should know he called you insufferable.

-Hermione

Hermione,

What have you done? Pansy came storming over to Blaise's house when were hanging out and screamed death threats at him. He just kept saying that you had betrayed him. Dear God, spare me from those two. How has life been? Having fun? Muggles keeping you down?

Love,

Daphne

Dear Daphne

Your image of what Pansy did just caused me to burst into laughter. I can totally see Pansy storming into Blaise's house and screaming at him. And it's Blaise's fault for calling me violent! I've been having fun, and I mostly ignore the muggles. What about you?

-Hermione

Dear Hermione,

YOU ARE VIOLENT!

-Daphne

Dear Hermione,

How have you been? Father says that we can come over in a few days and you can stay at the Manor for the rest of the summer. Mother has already decided that you are to be given a permanent room here. How have you been?

-Draco

Dear Draco,

I am absolutely touched at your parents gesture. A permanent room there? If I didn't feel so bad about intruding, I'd stay there forever. I'm good, but how are you? Did you see Blaise's new piercing? Did you know that Pansy threatened to kill Blaise? I can't wait for you to come.

Love,

Hermione

Hermione sat in her room, trunk packed. Artemis sat on her shoulder, preening her golden feathers.

"Hermione!" her father called, and Hermione came down, shrinking her trunk. Though she was not allowed to do magic outside of school, her trunk had automatic shrinking charms on it, so no magic was used.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, enveloping him in a hug.

"Pansy!" the Black haired girl hugged her with a giggle.

"Hermione dear," said Mrs Malfoy, "We are going to Italy and were hoping you would join us. I believe Draco sent you a letter about it. The Zabinis, Greengrasses, Notts, Crabbes, and Goyles are already there."

Hermione couldn't believe it. Her parents never traveled, but here was an opportunity to go to Italy!

"I would love to!" she exclaimed, and Hermione left without a second thought.

Once they were in Italy via Side- Along Apparition, Mr. Malfoy applied special charms to them. Now everything you say will be in Italian when it is needed.." he told them ."Draco, Blaise, and our families already speak it."

"Thanks." smiled Hermione in English.

Italy was amazing. They had their own version of Diagon Alley called Tramonto Alley, or Sunset Alley. They visited Venice, and there there were colonies of merpeople living in the canals. Hermione got to go underwater with gillyweed and interact with the merpeople. It was heaven.

The restaurants, the music, the dancing, the shopping, everything. She and Pansy bought lots of clothes, and a new shampoo to tame Hermione's hair. Along with that Hermione got many many books to read.

They stayed in Italy for a fortnight before leaving, and by then it was time to go shopping for the school year.

"Booklist?" asked Lucius over breakfast.

" SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:" read Draco, "

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk

Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart

Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart

Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart

Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart

Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart"

"Lockhart?" asked Narcissa. "I remember that fool. A half-blood Slytherin who took credit for other people's works. He represented the worst of Slytherin. How did he end up in such a good position?"

"I don't know." shrugged Draco.

"Anyway," interuppted Lucius, "Everyone get ready to go to Diagon Alley."

Hermione went up after breakfast and pulled on a dark blue summer dress with flowy sleeves and skirt. Tucking a blue headband into her curls, she went down to find Draco in a normal black pants and white shirt.

"You first Hermione dear." said Mrs Malfoy, offering her a small engraved pot with powder in it. It reminded Hermione of the ashes she saw that people would take a small bite of in Indian temples.

Hermione stared at them all watching her.

"W-what am I supposed to do?" she stammered.

"She's never traveled by Floo powder," said Draco suddenly. "Sorry, Mione, I forgot."

"Take the powder, throw it into the fire when you step in, and yell the name of the place you would like to go. We will visit Knockturn Alley first, where I have to drop some things off at Borgin and Burkes. That fool," Lucius sneered, "Arthur Weasley is conducting raids of houses. You three go to the bookshop, I'll meet up with you."

"I'll go first." Draco volunteered.

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than him, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

"Diagon Alley!" said Hermione, copying him.

It felt as though she was being sucked down a giant drain. She seemed to be spinning very fast - the roaring in her ears was deafening - she tried to keep her eyes open but the whirl of green flames made her feel sick -something hard knocked her elbow and she tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning - now it felt as though cold hands were slapping her face - she saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond - her breakfast was churning inside her - she closed her eyes again wishing it would stop, and then...

She tripped unceremoniously and nearly face planted on the floor if not for the fact that Draco barely caught her.

"Thanks" she said, wiping off her dress. "I never want to do that again."

"First to Gringotts." said Narcissa briskly, and they went to the bank. It was marble, and run by goblins.

The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Hermione enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Malfoy vaults, but felt horrible when she realized that she had no money.

"Here." said Draco, handing her a small blue bag of galleons. Hermione stared in astonishment at the gold coins. "I can't take this!" she stammered.

"Nonsense." said Narcissa briskly. "You will take it. Consider it a birthday present. Now you two go browse a little and meet me at Flourish and Blotts in an hour."

"Well?" said Draco, and Hermione grinned wryly, knowing what he was going to say. "Ice cream!"

"Naturally." she drawled, but they went to Florean Fortescues. They both bought strawberry and peanut butter ice creams, which they slurped happily as they walked along the alley, examining the shops.

Hermione dragged Draco off from staring at a set of Thunder Mouth Falcons robes to get more parchment and ink, along with a thorough raid of the apothecary for the best potions ingredients she could find.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

will be signing copies of his autobiography

MAGICAL ME

today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

"We can actually meet him!" Daphne squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!" They had caught up with her near the apothecary/

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies... Don't push, there... mind the books, now..."

Draco, Daphne, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the Malfoys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass.

Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Malfoy. "Let's get the books signed and leave."

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"He looks like a pouf." muttered Draco, and both the girls scowled at him.

"Children, go upstairs." said Mrs. Malfoy. "I'll get these signed for you."

The three were watching him when he lept up. "It can't be Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, and Hermione rolled her eyes.  
"Here we go again with Harry Potter the Savior."

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Lockhart shook Potter's hand for the photographer, who was taking photos with large bursts of black smoke.

When he finally let go of Harry's hand, the boy tried to walk away, but was stopped and clamped tightly to Lockhart.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography - which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge -" The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea ," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me . He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Draco sneered, walking down.

"Famous Harry Potter," said Daphne. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page." Her voice had a mocking lilt to it.

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said a small red head who Hermione recognized as Ginevra Weasley. She was glaring at Draco.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet.

"Better than some mudblood limpet." Weasley sneered, and Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. It was the first time she had ever been called a mudblood by anyone. Tears pooled in her eyes, and her heart panged. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. That was what she was. She stumbled backwards, barely noticing that she was crying into Blaise's shoulder, who had joined them.

"It's alright Princess.'' he soothed, and Hermione slowly calmed down. This was Blaise, who was there for her just like all her friends.

"You'll pay for that." Draco sneered, worried about his friend.,

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley."

It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

"Your son needs to learn to keep his tounge. He called one of my son's friends a mudblood. I had thought your family was light."

"My son would never do that." Weasley sneered, and Hermione glared at them with watery eyes.

"Yes he did." she stated, her voice barely wavering.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration .

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Moon, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower."

There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please - please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all-

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up-"

Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools . He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you -" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

"Idiots." Draco snarled later, hugging Hermione as she got a soothing tea from Mrs. Malfoy. "Attacking father and hurting Mione."

"But it's what I am." Hermione hiccupped a little. "Just a filthy little mudblood. I got so caught up in all my pureblood friends I forgot that I'm a muggleborn." She vaguely noticed the adult Malfoys leaving the room.

"Hermione," said Draco firmly, gripping her arms. "No matter what others say, you are not a mudblood. You hear me? Mudbloods are muggleborns like Lily Moon who have no respect for tradition. You are nothing like them. You are a Slytherin."

"How do you always know what to say?" Hermione sniffed, wiping her tears. "Thanks for calming me down. I guessed he used that word and the reality of my situation came crashing down."

"It's alright Princess." Draco soothed, and Hermione sipped her tea for the first time, barely noticing as the calming draught used put her to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hermione!" Pansy shrieked as she entered the compartment, and Hermione hugged her with a giggle.

"What happened?" she asked, her large brown eyes searching Hermione's face. "Blaise sent me a letter about something."

"It's nothing." Hermione whispered quietly.

"Nothing?" Draco snorted. "Weasley called her a mudblood."

"WHAT!" Pansy shrieked, her voice deafening. Hermione winced.

"Shut up Pansy." Theo said irritably.

"Well we have to get revenge somehow!" she plotted

"Does Weasley have any relatives we can affect?" Draco asked.

"I don't want innocents to be hurt." said Hermione, but Pansy glared at her.

"The oaf called you a mudblood!"

Blood boiled in Hermione's ears. "Fine." she said, to angry at Weasley to care.

"Her sister!" said Blaise all of a sudden. "He has a sister. Maybe we can talk a younger Slytherin firstie into bribing the sorting hat."

"Excellent idea." Hermione grinned. "What house?"

"Hufflepuff."said Draco, and they laughed. Hufflepuff was a joke of a house to Slytherins. Maybe they used to be good, but they were loyal. However, they weren't loyal to anyone. This ended up with them being very naive.

"Excellent." Pansy praised. "Who will do the bribing?"

"My little sister is joining this year." said Daphne. "Astoria."

"Can you get her to do it?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"She'll want a favor." said Daphne skeptically. "And she's obsessed with you Draco."

"Me!" said Draco aghast. "I barely know her!"

"Yes, well she has it stuck in her mind that you're her soulmate."

"Fine." he grumbled.

When Daphne came back she was laughing. "One kiss!" she gasped, barely catching her breath. "She want's one kiss!"

"WHAT!" Draco yelped in a high pitched voice.

"Please?" Hermione begged, giving him doe eyes.

"Fine." he grumbled. "But at Christmas Break so that I don't have to put up with the rumours and gossip."

"Your sister's a bloody harpy." commented Pansy, and Daphne glared.

"Don't call her that." she said in a tight voice. "Only I can call her that."

"Fine." Pansy relented, rolling her eyes.

"Excuse me?" the group heard the bossy voice of Lily Moon say as she entered their compartment. "Have you seen Harry or Ron?" she asked.

"Obviously not." Draco drawled.

"Get out." snarled Daphne.

"Hmph. SO rude!" she flounced off

At Hogwarts Hermione took the carriages into the school.

"It's nice to be back." she grinned, and Theo smiled.

Soon the Sorting started. Hogwarts was just like Hermione remembered. Innumerable candles were hovering in midair over four long, crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars.

Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Hermione saw a long line of scared-looking first years filing into the Hall. Ginny was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall, a bespectacled witch with her hair in a tight bun, was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers.

Every year, this aged old hat, patched, frayed, and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin). Hermione well remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in her ear. Eventually it put her in Slytherin.

A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place the hat on his head. Hermione's eyes wandered past him to where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff table, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Hermione saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet. Soon the mousy boy was sorted into Gryffindor.

Astoria went up, and after a few minutes she was sorted into Slytherin. She winked at Daphne.

"Perfect." Hermione smirked. Soon Ginny Weasley was called up. She was a slip of a girl with flaming red hair and a freckled face. After a few minutes, the Sorting Hat called, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hufflepuff cheered, but Hermione saw the Weasley's silent. Their sister in Hufflepuff? The house of duffers? Ginny looked rather defeated as she slunk down to her table.

"Wait… Where's Snape?" Draco asked.

"Hmm. I don't know." said Pansy.

"I dunno." Goyle grunted.

Soon the Sorting was over and Blaise pulled out the Evening Prophet. "Look!" he whispered.

FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES.

He began to read aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower... at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing... Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police... Six or seven Muggles in all.

"That must be where Weasley is!" Hermione exclaimed.

"You know, his father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. What if you told your dad?" offered Theo grinning evilly, in a way that would make most Hufflepuffs wet their pants.

"He would lose his job at the least." said Daphne, catching on.

"Look!" said Crabbe, and they watched as Snape took McGonagall out of the hall. A while later, Dumbledore left too.

"They're in trouble." Hermione sang.

"Show it to the rest of the table." said Draco, and Blaise passed it on. Soon the Slytherins were full of evil laughter and snickers as they read the article.

"To your houses!" said Dumbledore when he came back, and Hermione walked back with her friends to her house. Snuggling herself into the large plushy bed, she immediately dozed off.

The next day Hermione woke up as usual, showered, pulled her hair back with a headband, and went down to meet her friends. In the Great Hall, The four long house tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray).

"Why are they here?" Draco hissed.

"They should have been expelled." scowled Daphne.

Hermione had only just started her porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd.

Suddenly, a huge roar filled the hall, shaking the ceilings.

"-STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE-"

"-LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED-"

"-ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED - YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

"Can you believe those oafs?" snorted Pansy.

"Idiots." Hermione agreed.

But she had no time to dwell on this; Professor Snape was moving along the Slytherin table, handing out course schedules. Harry took hers and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

"Miss Granger, our lessons will continue Thursdays, same place same time." he said.

"Thank you sir!'' she exclaimed, brightening up.

Hermione, Draco, Theo, Pansy, Daphne, and Blaise left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. This was one of Daphne's favorite subjects, while the rest of them preferred intellectual classes; Pansy just didn't like dirt.

As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Hermione and her friends had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages, and Hermione spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of it's branches damaged.

"So that's where they crashed." mused Blaise.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails were covered in dirt. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

"Oh, hello there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels..."

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before - greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Hermione caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench. When Hermione took her place between Theo and Pansy, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

Hermione's hand was first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand shot up again.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable, but Hermione knew better.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on ."

Hermione snapped the earmuffs over her ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

"Ready?" said Daphne to Hermione, Blaise, and Theo.

"Ready." said Blaise, and Theo pulled.

Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth. By the end of the class, Hermione, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Slytherins hurried off to Transfiguration.

After turning her beetle into a button, Hermione joked around with Pansy and Draco for the rest of class. Soon the bell rang, and Hermione traipsed off to lunch.

"What've we got this afternoon?" said Blaise, hastily changing the subject from Draco and Pansy's arguement about who was stupider, Weasley or Potter.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Why , "demanded Theo, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously. They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard.

"Look!" pointed Draco, and Hermione looked. The small mousy boy from the Sorting was asking Potter for signed photos.

"Don't need to inflate his head more." Hermione muttered in annoyance, and they walked to him,her, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos , Potter?" Draco's voice echoed around the Courtyard.

"Everyone line up!" Draco roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous?" said Hermione, who didn't need to shout; half the courtyard was listening. "Of what? That because of you dear mom and dad are dead and all you have left is a scar?" her voice was mocking.

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering.

"Eat slugs, Granger," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. " If you put another toe out of line -"

A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house-"

Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand.

"I don't think a wand will work properly with spellotape." she said.

"Look out!" whispered Moon, and the group retreated into the shadows.

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

"Idiots." snickered Blaise, and they went to DADA.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Gregory Goyle's copy of Travels with Trolls , and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in-"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"

Hermione looked down at her paper and read:

1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?

2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

54\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti . And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Draco was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good girl! In fact" - he flipped her paper over - "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand. Draco glared at him.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Slytherin! And so - to business-"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

Hermione leaned around her books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Blaise and Theo had stopped laughing now. Goyle was cowering in his front row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Theo couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Theo.

"Well, they're not - they're not very - dangerous , are they?" Theo choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Theo. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window.

Hermione rolled her eyes and just left the classroom.

"Come on now - round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted as she left.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, " Peskipiksi Pesternomi! "

"Is that even a real spell?" Draco rolled his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hermione Hermione Hermione!" Draco yelled, bounding into her room and jumping on the bed. With a shriek Hermione woke up, shoving him off the bed.

"WHAT?" she screamed, very unhappy at having been woken up at 6 in the morning for this.

"Quidditch Practice." he said with a hyperactive grin.

"I don't care." she groaned. "Let me sleep."

"You have to come." he pouted. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaase?" Hermione glared at his pouty face.

"Fine." she grumbled, getting out and pulling on some clothes.

"Come on." she said once she was ready, and they walked down to the pitch.

"Hey Hermione." grinned Marcus Flint.

"Hey Marcus." Hermione smiled.

When they got on the field, the Gryffindor team was already up there.

"What?" Marcus cried in outrage. "I have a note saying that the Pitch is ours!"

"Well now you have to argue about it." muttered Miles Bletchely, the Keeper.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Hermione saw the rest of the team glaring at them.

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

The three Gryffindor Chasers Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker'. "

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said a Weasley, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors'noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" - he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives -" sweeps the board with them."

"What's she doing here?" Potter asked, glaring at Hermione.

Hermione sniffed. "I'm here for support."

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Ron and Lily were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team.

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"As if he could ever afford them." Hermione snorted, and the team burst into laughter.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Moon sharply. " They got in on pure talent."

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

There was an uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Draco to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoys face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Lily.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

"Idiots." Hermione snorted, laughing with the team.

"And you're alright with this?" Potter asked, glaring at her again.

"You'll find that I have never been called Mudblood by a Slytherin, though I have been called that by Gryffindors." Hermione stated.

Potter and Moon took Weasley off the field, and the Gryffs left.

"Come on guys!" yelled Marcus. "Practice!"

The team took to the air, and Hermione noticed for the first time how good Draco was at flying. They swooped and dodged, the beaters whacking the bludgers as hard as they could. Then, it happened. One beater, Randy Derrick missed a bludger and it hit his face full on. With a wave of his wand Marcus paused the balls.

"Are you alright?" Bole, his fellow beater asked.

Derrick had a bloody nose and a black eye.

"Here!" said Hermione hurrying forward, pulling out her wand. The team stepped back.

"Prohibere Sanguinem." she murmured. "Coalesco. Autum Cicatrix."

Slowly, his bruise disappeared and his nose healed.

"Bloody hell!" Warrington, a chaser, exclaimed. "Even I don't know those?"

"I look up a lot of healing spells because I want to help when people get hurt." Hermione exclaimed.

"Could you do this more often?" said Marcus with a contemplative look on his face.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I mean that people are always getting hurt during practice, and when they do we end up having to end. Now we can continue. If you could join us more often and help…"

"Like a team Healer?"

"Precisely."

"I'd love to." grinned Hermione.

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Hermione had been put in charge of brewing all the Pepperup Potions for the infirmary by Snape, and she had almost 12 cauldrons burning at a time.

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Marcus Flint's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Hermione was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to Slytherin Dungeon, accompanying a team that was drenched with mud and chilled to the bone. Hermione was looking up charms that would stop the rain from affecting them.

Other than that, it was an amazing practice session. The Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles.

Halloween had arrived and Hermione looked around the Great Hall; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

The rumors were true, Hermione laughed with Pansy and her other friends as the skeletons performed the Macarena. The feast was over much too quickly, and they left the hall. Suddenly, the crowd stopped.

"What's going on?" Daphne asked, and the group pushed their way to the front.

Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket above the message. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring. Potter, Weasley, and Moon were standing at the scene, looking scared.

What's going on here? What's going on?"

Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked. Hermione felt a small pang of pity for him. His cat was dead or petrified.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!"he screeched. " You ! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll-"

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Lily and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Moon."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free-"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

Back in the Common Room the Slytherins were having a house meeting.

"No one travels alone." said Rodney Knight, the Head boy. "Everyone travels in pairs or trios. Most of us are purebloods, but there is still danger. Hermione, you go no where alone."

"But what is the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione asked.

"No one knows exactly what it is, only that it was Salazar Slytherin's secret chamber." said Chastity Knight, Rodney's younger sister, a first year.

"Did Potter do it?" asked another first year.

"No way!" Theo snorted. "He's too stupid."

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Hermione had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly'and "looking happy."

Hermione had started working on nearly OWL level potions in her Potion Lessons, and she was preparing the basis for the Mandrake draught with him. Mandrake essence wasn't added until the end.

Hermione was also spending all her time in the library.

"What are you even looking for?" Blaise asked.

"Hogwarts, a History. To read up on the Chamber of Secrets, but I left it at home!"

The bell rang, and Hermione went to History of Magic, accompanied by her friends, of whom Theo and Pansy were bickering about another small thing.

History of Magic was the dullest subject on their schedule. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Miss - er -?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Vincent Crabbe, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Daphne Greengrass's head came up off her arms and Draco Malfoy's elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts , Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk slipping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers-"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Hermione was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational , even ludicrous tale-"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Hermione could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see... the Chamber of Secrets...

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir - what exactly do you mean by the horror within the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Millicent Bulstrode, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, Butch," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing-"

"But, Professor," piped up Pansy Parkinson, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it-"

"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't , Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore-"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't -" began Draco Malfoy, but Professor Binns had had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history , to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.

"So that's what the Chamber of Secrets is." Hermione said. "Now we have to figure out what's in it."

"Please don't tell me you're going to live in the library again." Blaise groaned.

Hermione just flounced off to the library.


	10. Chapter 10

Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf.

"Nice loud howl, Harry - exactly - and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced - like this - slammed him to the floor - thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down - with my other, I put my wand to his throat - I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm- he let out a piteous moan - go on, Harry - higher than that - good - the fur vanished - the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective - and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework - compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

"These have become my favorite lessons." Theo sniggered. "Watching Potter get humiliated."

The first Quidditch match of the Season was coming up- Slytherin v Gryffindor.

"Why is it always those two?" Hermione asked.

"Dumbledore likes watching us lose to his precious golden boys." Pansy replied.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Hermione had been allowed to sit on the sidelines as the team healer.

As the teams walked out, all the crowd except for the Slytherins booed, and Hermione again saw all the segregation against Slytherins.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three... two... one..."

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. With their fast brooms, the Slytherins were dynamite. It had started to rain, but the Snakes were still leading 60-0.

Then Gryffindor called a timeout and the teams descended.

"Here!" said Hermione. "Warming Charms, and a water repelling charm. This should keep you good. "Calidum! Impervius!"

Soon all the Snakes were dry like there was no rain, and Hermione did the same to their brooms and bats.

"Excellent." Marcus grinned, and they shot into the air.

The rain was falling more heavily now. Then, Potter caught the Snitch.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee Jordan roared, and Hermione groaned. Again!

The Slytherins came down in gloomy moods.

"Damn it." said Draco forlornly. Slowly, Hermione fixed all their bruises from the bludgers.

That evening, Colin Creevey was petrified.

"So it can't be Potter." concluded Hermione. "He would never attack a Gryffindor."

"The other Houses will suspect us." stated Daphne sadly.

"Why wouldn't they?" Pansy snorted. "After all, being cunning and ambitious means that we're evil, right?"

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Vincent Crabbe sold a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail to Neville Longbottom, making nearly 50 galleons.

In the second week of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Draco and Hermione signed up with Crabbe and Goyle, since his parents were going to India on a business trip.

Hermione sat in Potions class, making her Potion like always. Potions lessons took place in one of the large dungeons. Thursday afternoon's lesson proceeded in the usual way. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Hermione, like always, had a perfect potion, and the others had started taking down notes on what she did. Her first and second year books had notes scribbled in the margins on all her changes, and Hermione hoped to bring these to the editors.

Suddenly, Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate - Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Hermione had erected a shield around herself, but was looking around suspiciously. Greg was actually good at Potions, so what happened?

Whoever did this was stupid. This wasn't a prank, this could actually hurt people!

"Silence! SILENCE!" Snape roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft - when I find out who did this-"

When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered, "I shall make sure that person is expelled."

"Are you sure you don't know who threw it?" Theo persisted after class.

"No I don't for the 27th time!" Goyle exclaimed.

"Well it was horrible." said Draco. "That solution hurt."

A week later, Draco, Hermione, and Blaise were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Pansy and Daphne beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Pansy. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days..."

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Draco, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

"Could be useful," he said to Blaise and Hermione as they went into dinner. "Shall we go?"

Blaise and Hermione were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young - maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not -" Draco began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Snape's upper lip was curling. Hermione wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at her like that she'd have been running as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Blaise murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.

"One - two - three-"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

The Slytherins cheered, and Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "Now do you believe me when I say that Lockhart's a fraud?" asked Theo.

"I'll do more research, but my respect has gone down."

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I've lost my wand - ah, thank you, Miss Brown - yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy - however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me-"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Moon- you can partner Miss Granger. Weasley, with Mr Nott."

Draco strutted over, smirking. Hermione followed, smirking too at the petite redhead with blue eyes. Honestly, she looked too easy.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - only to disarm them - we don't want any accidents - one ... two ... three-"

The room burst into chaos. With a quick spell, Hermione disarmed her opponent, and watched Draco's duel. Potter had started on two not three and hit him with Rictumsempra. Cheater!

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge. "Finite Incantatem!" he shouted; Harry's feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville Longbottom and Justin Flinch Fletchely were lying on the floor, panting.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan..."

"Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second,"

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you-"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker. "How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops - my wand is a little overexcited-" Hermione smirked.

Snape moved closer to Draco, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"Three - two - one - go!" he shouted.

Draco raised his wand quickly and bellowed, " Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. Hermione gazed. It was a Coluber Constictor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Suddenly, Potter moved to it and started hissing.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin shouted. Justin turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. With a pull, Pansy pulled her back to the Common Room, where they had another house meeting.

"This changes things." said Elan Parkinson. "With Potter a Parseltongue, it means that he probably is the Heir of Slytherin. He could attack us too."

"How could it be Potter though?" asked Adrian Pucey. "He's the Gryffindor Golden Boy."

"Maybe it's an act." said Terrence Higgs.

"Just watch him." said Blaise. "Pending further judgement."

Hermione was in Transfiguration watching McGonagall berate a Hufflepuff named Hannah Abbot for turning Susan Bones into a badger when she heard the unmistakable voice of Peeves.

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

In fear and worry, the entire class went up to where the voice was. Susan still had black and white striped hair. Hermione gaped at the sight. Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Hermione had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie MacMillan yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:

"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done, You're killing off students, you think it's good fun-"

"That's enough Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry.

"Come on." whispered Pansy, and they had another House meeting.

"These are becoming regular, aren't they." remarked Hermione.

"Yes they are." grinned Derrick, and the room echoed with laughter.

"Seriously though, first Potter set the snake on him then he's found petrified." said Elan.

"But I really don't think he's strong enough to do that to a ghost." argued Draco.

"Maybe he's hiding his powers in class?" said Chastity Knight.

"Maybe." said Rodney with a grim look on his face.

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Draco told Hermione. "Us, Potter, Moon, and Weasley. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."

"And Elan." said Hermione. "He didn't want to go home, 'cause he wanted to study."

"And Flint. He wants to practice Quidditch." grunted Crabbe.

"And Rodney and Chastity." Draco remembered. "Their parents are in St. Mungos for spell damage so they have nowhere to go."

At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. Hermione found it peaceful, rather than gloomy, and enjoyed the fact that she could practice duelling and play Exploding Snap without disturbing anyone too much.


	11. Chapter 11

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white.

"Presents!" squealed Draco, and Hermione giggled as she thought of how much he sounded like a girl. Daphne and Theo sent her books. Pansy sent her a beautiful dress. It was for the summer solstice, when the Malfoys were holding another dinner since they couldn't hold the Christmas one. Blaise sent her a thin silver choker with a diamond pendant on it, and Hermione had gaped at how expensive it looked. Draco sent her Potion ingredients and boxes of healing balms.

Christmas dinner was amazing. The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed.

"Drunkard." Draco sneered.

"Have you seen Potter and Weasley's sweater." Hermione remarked.

They were ugly. Large and Lumpy with horrible colors and they all looked too large.

"Weasley's get them every year." said Elan.

"Where are they?" Hermione asked in the common room, worried about Crabbe and Goyle.

"Let's go look for them. I want to show them this." said Draco, and the two hurried out. Finally, they found him, and Draco started to speak.

"There you are," he drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny."

Draco glanced witheringly at Percy.

"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.

Percy looked outraged.

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"

Draco sneered and motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. "That Peter Weasley-"

"Percy," Crabbe corrected.

"Whatever," said Malfoy. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."

He gave a short, derisive laugh.

Malfoy paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.

"What's the new password again?" he said.

"Pureblood." said Hermione.

"Oh, yeah - pure-blood!" said Malfoy. "Thanks Mione."

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.

"Wait here," said Malfoy to Crabbe and Goyle, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it my father's just sent it to me-"

Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. "That'll give you a laugh," he said.

Harry saw Ron's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry.

It had been clipped out of the Daily Prophet , and it said:

INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

By Jessie Lynch

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car. Along with this, he was demoted to the centaur liaison office.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr. Weasley's resignation. "Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."

"Honestly," scoffed Undersecretary Umbridge. "He should know better. Maybe he will learn better in the Centaur office."

Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.

"Well?" said Malfoy impatiently as Goyle handed the clipping back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," said Goyle bleakly.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Malfoy scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."

Crabbe's - face was contorted with fury.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy.

"Stomachache," Ron grunted.

"Well, tell Hermione and she'll help you. said Malfoy. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. I really should tell father about the attacks."

He dropped his hands and looked at Harry and Ron.

"What's the matter with you two?"

"They're fat from all the eating." commented Hermione.

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods friend," said Malfoy slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Moon Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"

Harry and Ron waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds away from telling them it was him - but then "I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could tell them not to attack Mione and to attack the others."

Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice.

"You must have some idea who's behind it all." said Goyle.

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing - last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time... I hope it's Moon," he said with relish.

Goyle said, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" Hermione was watching them suspiciously, before she pulled something out of her bag.

"Oh, yeah... whoever it was was expelled," said Malfoy. "They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" said Goyle, puzzled.

"Azkaban - the wizard prison, Goyle," said Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward."

He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

"Yeah..." said Draco. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor-"

"Ho!" said Crabbe.

They both jumped to their feet.

"Medicine for the stomach." grunted Crabbe, who was starting to look weird. Hermione shot a look at Elan and he blocked the doorway.

"I have medicine right here!" she said, waving a small bottle.

"How do we know it'll work." Goyle grunted, shrinking.

"Honestly." said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I've given you medicine so much. Don't you trust me?" she gave them a fake pouty face.

Before the two could say more, they both turned into Potter and Weasley.

"What?!" Draco shrieked, jumping up.

"Just as I thought." Hermione smirked, looking at their scared faces.

"No matter what you think, Crabbe and Goyle aren't actually stupid. It's just an act. I knew something was wrong after you asked about the Chamber."

"What should we do?" asked Chastity.

"Elan, can you go with Marcus and look for Vince and Greg. Draco and I will go with these two to Professor Snape." she had an evil grin on her face.

Slowly, they began the trek to his office.

"Drakon." said Hermione to a painting of a basilisk, and the portrait swung open.

"Yes Miss Granger?" asked Professor Snape.

"Professor," began Hermione, "We found Potter and Weasley in our common room. They used Polyjuice Potion to disguise themselves as Crabbe and Goyle. We don't know where Vince and Greg are now." she said.

"How, pray tell, did you dunderheads get the ingredients." Snape asked.

Both boys looked down. Draco snapped his fingers. "That explosion with the swelling solution! It must have been a distraction!"

"Very well." Snape said, a small evil smile gracing his lips. "That will be 100 points from each of you, along with 2 months worth of detention. Potter will serve with Lockhart, and Weasley with me. Now we are going to Dumbledore's.

As they walked along the corridor, Elan came by levitating Crabbe and Goyle.

"Professor!" he exclaimed. "Vincent and Gregory are hurt. They hit their heads on the closet and have bruises."

"That will be another 25 points from each of you for harming students."

"Here." whispered Hermione, healing them.

They marched in silence around a corner and stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" he said. This was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. What kind of password was lemon drop? Though she hated the man, Hermione was amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As everyone stepped onto it, Hermione heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Hermione saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

They entered his office. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat. Standing on a perch in the corner was a beautiful phoenix with red and golden feathers.

"Hello Severus. For what do I owe the pleasure?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"I want Potter banned from Quidditch for the rest of the year." Snape snarled.

Dumbledore slowly took off his glasses and stared. "Why?"

"Potter endangered two of my students, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, by knocking them out and stuffing them in a broom closet. They were bruised and being covered by a mop, Crabbe was nearly suffocated. On top of that, these two are responsible for the Swelling Solution incident which hurt many of my students. They also stole ingredients from my Potions cupboard and used to to impersonate Crabbe and Goyle with Polyjuice Potion."

"Is this true?" Dumbledore asked, staring at the two boys. They fidgeted, before Potter looked up.

"Yes." he muttered.

"I don't believe a Quidditch ban is necessary, Severus."

Snape turned pallied. "They endangered the lives of two of my students." he snarled.

"But they weren't hurt. I do believe you have already taken points."

"125 from each of them and 2 months of detention." Snape snarled.

"Very well." Dumbledore said, and looking at their gaping faces, Hermione felt vindication.

Lily Moon had disappeared into the hospital wing, and no one knew what was wrong with her. The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," Hermione heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."

Perhaps the Heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve, thought Hermione. It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the school so alert and suspicious. Perhaps the monster, whatever it was, was even now settling itself down to hibernate for another fifty years...

Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff didn't take this cheerful view. He was still convinced that Potter was the guilty one, that he had "given himself away" at the Dueling Club. Peeves wasn't helping matters; he kept popping up in the crowded corridors singing "Oh, Potter, you rotter..." now with a dance routine to match. Draco had memorized it.

Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Hermione overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Slytherins were lining up for Transfiguration. "I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him."

She rolled her eyes.

"You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing..."

He tapped his nose again and strode off.

Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. Hermione hadn't had much sleep because of a late-running Quidditch practice the night before when Draco had dislocated a finger, and she hurried down to the Great Hall, slightly late. She thought, for a moment, that she'd walked through the wrong doors.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Hermione went over to the Slytherin table, where Theo was sitting looking sickened, and Pansy seemed to have been overcome with giggles.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked them, sitting down and wiping confetti off her cereal.

Blaise pointed to the teachers table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where she sat, Hermione could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

Hermione stifled a laugh at how absurd they looked.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

Hermione was doing her best not to burst into laughter. Her face was red at this point and she was sure she looked strange.

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as the Slytherins were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caused a commotion.

"Oy, you! Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.

Harry tried to escape. The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

Potter struggled and tried to escape.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.

Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.

"What's going on here?" Draco drawled, surrounded by Hermione, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Daphne, Theo, and Blaise.

"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.

Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor. Hermione laughed out loud at the sight.

"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard,

I wish he was mine,

he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord

Hermione burst into laughter, barely noticing that Theo was leaning on her in his laughter so he didn't fall down.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," Percy said, shooing some of the younger students away. "And you, Malfoy-"

"Look." Draco whispered, leaning down to pick up a small black diary from Potter's bag.

"Give that back," said Harry quietly.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Draco. A hush fell over the onlookers.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy sternly.

"When I've had a look," said Draco, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry.

Percy said, "As a school prefect -" but Harry had lost his temper. He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and just as Snape had disarmed Lockhart, so Malfoy found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.

"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"

But Harry didn't care, he was one-up on Malfoy, and that was worth five points from Gryffindor any day. Malfoy was looking furious, and as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

"You're not supposed to use magic!" Hermione exclaimed.

"It doesn't matter." Daphne soothed her. "They barely have 100 points thanks to the 250 point loss. Oliver Wood is furious because Professor Snape is scheduling all his detentions on the days of Quidditch Practice."

That day in her Potion lesson, Hermione was making the Strengthening Solution. Then Potter entered.

"Good." said Snape. "Potter clean out the cauldrons."

Hermione stifled a giggle. These were her dirty cauldrons, all filthy from Potion making. With a groan and a glare, he set to work.

"Miss Granger, you need to cut your flobberworms more evenly." Snape said, and with a nod, Hermione set to slowly recutting her flobberworms.

Soon it was Spring and Hermione was getting ready to choose her electives.

"Care of Magical Creatures for sure." said Draco. "The teacher, Kettleburn, is really good according to father."

"Divination." said one of the older students. "An easy O."

"Muggle Studies." joked Greg.

"WHAT!" Hermione shrieked. "That subject is outdated, biased, completely stupid, and useless! Unless you guys are going to live in the muggle world, that subject is dumb!"

"Arithmancy is really good, and so is Ancient Runes." said Elan.

"But those are the two hardest electives." said Hermione worried.

"Yes." he grimaced. "It's really hard to keep up with them both."

"Come on Hermione." Draco whined.

"Divination is stupid." she snapped, before huffing off to Potions lessons.

"Miss Granger, did you know that 3rd years are allowed three electives which can be narrowed down to two by their fourth year." said Professor Snape as Hermione added shredded boomslang skin to her potion. Wheels turning in her mind, Hermione finished the potion and raced off.

"Will you do it?" Draco asked with a bounce.

"Fine." she grumbled, and she checked COMC, Divination, and Ancient Runes off.

"Why Ancient Runes?" Pansy asked.

"I was reading," Hermione explained, before being interrupted.

"Of course you were.'' Blaise said, rolling his eyes, and with a glare, Hermione whacked him on the arm.

"Jeez woman!" he yelped.

"As I was saying, Ancient Runes are runes that are filled with magic. This means that anyone using them can do magic without setting off the Trace." she said.

"So you'll be able to do magic at home." grinned Daphne.

"Yup." she smirked.


	12. Chapter 12

"The match has been cancelled!" roared Professor Snape, while the Slytherins stared in horror. This was the decider for the Quidditch cup against Hufflepuff.

"The Cup!" Marcus begged.

"NO." he replied.

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Lowering his voice, he spoke to Draco. "Draco, you and your friends come with me."

They followed him to the hospital wing, wondering what would happen. They didn't expect the worst.

Hermione had been petrified. Petrified. Draco stared in growing horror at the frozen body and glassy eyes of Hermione Granger. Her hair was in beautiful chestnut waves and her eyes sparkled, but glassily, as though she was behind a screen.

"Hermione." he whispered in a grief choked voice. "Speak to me."

"This isn't fair." whispered Theo.

Two days later they had a house meeting, and the other students took in the sight of the first years. Draco Malfoy had red rimmed eyes, and Pansy Parkinson's eyes were puffy from crying. Theo's hair was askew, Blaise looked like he hadn't slept at all, and Daphne's hair was a mess.

"Hermione was petrified." whispered Daphne, barely able to believe it.

Not even the fact that Lily Moon had also been petrified could cheer them up.

"None of us are safe." said a seventh year, Malcolm Baddock.

That was when the school stopped suspecting the Slytherins.

"Have you seen Draco Malfoy? He would never hurt Granger?" girls would whisper.

Dear Mother and Father,

Hermione has been petrified. Is there anything you can do?

Love,  
Draco

Meanwhile, Draco spent every evening at Hermione's bed, giving her flowers though she couldn't touch them.

Hagrid had been arrested, but he didn't even care. The entire group were shells. Even Snape was snappier than usual. Even Dumbledore gone didn't arouse even a bit of happiness in them. Then Madame Pomfrey banned hospital visits, and Draco got angry. He snuck in to see her, no matter how many points he lost.

Summer was creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers large as cabbages burst into bloom in the greenhouses. But with no Hermione nattering at her friends to study it was all wrong.  
Exams were still on and they pushed themselves into work. One night at dinner, an announcement was made. Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

"Hermione's coming back!" Blaise cheered, and even Draco grinned at that, the first grin anyone had seen on him in months.

"Hospital wing?" Pansy asked, and the two went down to the wing. There was Hermione, and like always she was given a vase of flowers. One from each of them. A lily from Draco, tulip from Pansy, rose from Daphne, hydrangea from Blaise, and a chrysanthemum from Theo.

"What's that?" Pansy asked, and for the first time Draco noticed a small piece of paper clutched in her first. Carefully taking it out, they read it.

"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Draco recognized as Hermione's. Pipes .

"That's it!" said Draco. "The things a basilisk."

"But basilisk stares kill." said Pansy.

"The power must have been reduced. They only saw the reflection. That's why Hermione was holding a mirror!" Draco said.

Neither noticed Harry Potter under an Invisibility cloak, sneaking away.

Hermione entered the Great Hall on the last week. She had been petrified for nearly a month in a half. It had been horrible. Each moment was plagued with nightmares.

Hermione was walking with her parents.

"Look mama!" she exclaims, levitating her book.

Her parents stare in horror. She looks at their faces and realizes that they don't like it. They don't understand the caress of magic, the smooth feel, the accomplishment.

Hermione sneaks down to see her parents. They are whispering about her. "Freaky… Unnatural… Neighbors… Weird… Witch…"

Little Hermione goes crying to bed.

"Mudblood." Ron Weasley sneers in Flourish and Blotts.

"You'll never belong." scoffs Harry Potter.

Hermione shook herself out of those thoughts.

"Draco." whispered Tracy Davis, "It's Granger."

His head immediately shot around so fast it gave him a crick, but there she was. Looking incredibly nervous, she was smiling, her hair curled around one shoulder.

"Hermione!" he yelled, not caring about composure, running to hug her. The rest of his friends did the same. Good Merlin, she was alive!

Muffling a sob, Hermione buried her head in their shoulders.

"Let the girl breathe!" Pansy scolded, pulling Hermione into a seat.

"Mother hen." Theo muttered.

"Good to see you back." said Elan.

"I'm glad you're back." said Marcus.

"Now can I tell her the bad news?" asked Blaise.

"Really?"Daphne hissed. "Now?"

"Well she has to know." he said, and with a sigh, Daphne let him continue.

"Lockhart was fired, because his memory was erased by a backfired obliviate. Exams were cancelled, and Gryffindor won the House Cup."

"How is that possible?" Hermione demanded.

"Potter and Weasley found out about the basilisk, and killed it. Dumbledore awarded them 200 points each." Theo said with a disgusted look on his face.

"Every year." Hermione muttered. "Every bloody year."

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small differences - Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled and Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor.

"For no reason!" complained Draco. "Dumbledore made up some cock- and- bull story about father threatening the governor's even though I know he didn't, and worst of all, Arthur Weasley got the post."

Hermione made a disgusted face. "Idiots." she agreed. "One day we'll get revenge."

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Draco, Blaise, Theo, Hermione, Pansy, Daphne, Elan, Marcus, Flora and Hestia Carrow got a compartment to themselves. They made the most of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Flora and Hestia's Filibuster fireworks, and practiced disarming each other by magic. Hermione was getting very good at it.

Too soon it was time to go home.

"Bye guys." Hermione said with a forlorn smile as she trudged off to another summer of no magic.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione was working on homework.(A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the pillow. Hermione moved the tip of her eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as she looked for something that would help her write her essay, 'Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless - discuss.'

Hermione read:

Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises.

Hmm. she thought. She would have to try that spell. Hermione jotted a note down in her notebook. Over the summer she had bought many notebooks for her projects. One for potion recipes, one for spells, and one as an extra.

"Hi Artemis." she cooed, petting the golden own and taking the letters from her.

"Hermione!" Draco yelled, jumping on her bed.

"Ooof!" she screamed, whacking him with a pillow. "What?"

"Look." he said, and the two started to read.

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

By Rita Skeeter

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

"We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it - who'd believe him if he did?"

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

"Bloody hell." Hermione said, taking a deep breath.

That night at dinner Mr Malfoy made an announcement. "Tomorrow we go to Diagon Alley." he said.

The next day Hermione got up. She pulled on a green skirt and a light grey shirt. Pulling her hair into a ponytail , she went down. As they strolled Diagon Alley, Draco was immediately attracted to the broom window, and dragged Hermione there. "Look!" he gushed, and Hermione could hear the reverence in his voice. "A Firebolt!"

"And it's millions of galleons. No way are you buying it." Hermione lectured sternly, dragging him back. "Boys and their brooms." she sighed in exasperation.

"Your friend is right." said Mr Malfoy with an amused tone.

"Come on!" she said. "I want to get some owl treats for Artemis!"

"I want to get some for Royal too." said Draco. Royal was his owl. Soon they were in Magical Menagerie. There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing. The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Draco and Hermione waited, examining the cages.

A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise. Then there were cats of every color, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats that were playing some sort of skipping game using their long, bald tails.

Soon she finished and it was their turn. "I'm looking for basic owl treats." said Draco, and she handed him a bag of owl treats.

"Royal will love these." he boasted.

"You look like a cat lover." said the witch. "Take him. For free."

It was the ugliest cat Hermione had ever seen. The cat's ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall. Hermione looked into it's eyes and saw intelligence though.

"Why for free?" Hermione questioned.

"Crookshanks is a monster!" she said with wide eyes. "You're the first person he hasn't scratched!"

"Crookshanks isn't a monster." she scowled, before leaving the shop.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"That is the ugliest creature I have ever seen." muttered Narcissa Malfoy, watching as the brunette approached with a squashed ginger cat.

"She likes it." said her husband. "Let her have it." He approached them. "Shall we get our books?" he asked.

"Lets." said Draco. "We need two new books, three for Hermione."

"To the bookshop." said Mr Malfoy, and Hermione's eyes lit up again. Oh no. An hour later, they had all their books and Hermione had two more bags of books for her reading.

"You already live in the library!" Draco had exclaimed in disbelief.

"I don't live there." Hermione sniffed.

"Children, stop arguing." interrupted Mrs. Malfoy.

Soon it was time to go to Hogwarts, and Hermione ran through the barrier again. There was the bright red train, smoke coming from it like usual.

"Come on!" said Draco. "Let's find a compartment!"

"Say Goodbye to your parents!" Hermione lectured.

"Bye mum! By dad!" he said, running off with Hermione.

"Do you have a feeling that those two will be like that forever?" Narcissa asked.

"Yes they will." said Lucius. "Always bickering."

Hermione boarded the train, and she found a compartment. It was their usual, and she sat down. Artemis has chosen to fly to Hogwarts.

"Good!" said Pansy cheerfully entering. "You found a compartment. Look what I've brought." she said, showing Hermione a pile of magazines. "Fashion magazines!"

Hermione started looking through them, and noted with interest the dress she had been given for the summer solstice ball was in there. The dress was a basic scarlet red with a black belt, ending above her knees. Her hair had been curled and pulled to the side, and she was put into peach pumps with golden earrings.

"These are nice dresses." she noted.

"I know." Pansy replied smugly.

"What are you going on about?" Blaise asked, entering with Theo. Draco, Daphne, Crabbe, and Goyle entered a little later.

"Fashion." said Pansy. "Not that you would know anything about it."

"Girls." said Theo in disgust, rolling his eyes.

"Girls aren't all that bad." Blaise soothed. "They can be quite nice." he winked.

"Just cause you grew up and are now a pervert doesn't mean we are." said Daphne in a thoroughly unimpressed voice.

"I'm bored." Draco whined. "Mione, come with me to annoy Potter and Weasley."

"No." Hermione snapped, immersed in petting her cat. "Go by yourself." He had annoyed her when he had started dating Pansy this summer.

"Fine." he grumbled, and he got up and left.

This was when her friends noticed her cat.

"What the hell is that?" Blaise asked in horror.

"This is Crookshanks. He's half kneazle, and very smart. Aren't you Crooks?" she cooed.

"That," said Theo pointing, "Is a monster who ran into a brick wall and mated with a walrus."

Hermione glared at him before punching him.

"Abuse!" he yelped.

"Deal with it." Hermione replied.

"Guys, we have a new defense teacher." said Draco.

"Well no duh." said Blaise.

"He's in Potter and Weasley's compartment, and looks poor."

"We must be nearly there," said Theo, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

"Great," said Blaise, getting up and walking carefully past Crookshanks, who was glaring at him, to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast..."

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Draco, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" said Theo's voice.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Draco, that was my foot!"

"D'you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno..."

There was a squeaking sound, and Hermione saw the dim black outline of Pansy, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," she said. "I think people are coming aboard..."

It was getting cold, really cold. Hermione had started shivering, and just remembered to apply warming charms. Clutching Crookshanks, she waited. After what seemed like eternity, they started moving.

"What was that about?" Crabbe asked.

"I don't know." said Draco with sarcasm in his voice. " I was here with YOU!"

"Idiot." Pansy said with scorn in her voice. After a while, Draco went out, and when he came back in he looked very excited.

"Guess what?" he said excitedly.

"Chicken Butt." chorused Hermione and Blaise at the same time.

"No, the cold we felt was dementors. They're looking for Sirius Black. Potter fainted." The glee was evident in his voice.

"You boys and your obsession with Potter." Hermione said rolling her eyes. "I swear you have a crush on him."

Draco's cheeks pinked. "I don't!" he snapped.

"Totally." Hermione drawled, pulling out the word.

"Stop flirting." Blaise teased, and Hermione punched him.

"Again with the violence woman!" Blaise yelped.

"Just shut up." Theo said. "Robes on, we're at Hogwarts."

They boarded the carriages, but not before Draco could yell at Potter about fainting.

Ugh." said Hermione, very unimpressed. At the sorting the Weasley Twins booed one of the new Slytherins.

"Don't worry." whispered Hermione. "They're just a bunch of wankers."

The girl gave her a watery smile. Hermione went to bed that day with revenge in her mind, on everyone who wronged her and her friends. When she woke up she saw Pansy applying makeup.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Pansy looked at her before sighing. "I forgot you don't know. Third year is when Slytherins girls are recognized as ladies, so we start wearing makeup. Each girl has a style."

"I didn't buy makeup." said Hermione.

"Don't worry about it."s aid Daphne, waving her arm. "You can borrow ours until you buy some."

Pansy chose black eyeshadow and black mascara. She also chose red lipstick for her signature style. Daphne had decided on royal blue with a little green eyeshadow, and dark pink lip gloss. Hermione decided for more subtle; she wanted nothing like Tracy Davis's glitter pink eyeshadow. In the end, she chose a golden that blended in with her skin tone, and light pink lipgloss. All girls wore mascara.

"Ladies." said Theo gallantly as they came down.

"You look really pretty." said Draco, doing his best to seem suave as he took Pansy's hand.

"This is why I ignored cooties long ago." said Blaise wisely, and Hermione giggled.

"Classes." said Professor Snape, walking by. "Nothing has changed Miss Granger, 6th year Potions on Thursday." He walked away.

"Wow." said Daphne. "You're already on 6th year?"

"Uh huh." said Hermione, a little smug. "I've written all the changed recipes down and want to take them to the editors."

"Our dear Hermione." said Draco, wiping a mock tear from his cheek. "Already changing the world."

"Ugh." said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "What class do we have first?"

"Divination." said Pansy, so they all trooped up to Elan.

"Do you know where Divination is?" Pansy asked.

"Yeah." he grinned. "North Tower, follow Cadogan for instructions."

So they all trooped up to the North Tower, and found the room. A ladder opened up, and they climbed in.

"Why do we have the misfortune of taking this class with Gryffindors?" Daphne muttered.

"Because Dumbledore hates us." replied Hermione, taking a seat on a pouf. The classroom was the strangest thing she had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

"Hey." whispered Draco. "Why isn't Moon with Potter and Weasley?"

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

"Moon decided not to hang out with them cause they get her in trouble." whispered Blaise, and Hermione grinned. At least she knew losers when she saw them.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Hermione's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"She looks like a poor nut." muttered Draco.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you...Books can take you only so far in this field..."

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearances, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball - if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us for ever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"This class seems like bogus." Hermione muttered.

"Easy O." smirked Blaise, lounging in his pouf. "Easy O."

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing.

"So what do you see Hermione?" asked Blaise.

"I see a bunch of tea leaves." Hermione snapped waspishly, and Blaise stared.

"Woah. Such a temper. What's got your wand in a knot?"

"This class is stupid." Hermione grouched.

"You did it for Draco." Blaise said plainly.

"Don't we always?" she sighed, resting her head on Blaise's lap and pulling out a book to read.

Later at lunch Pansy came to them with gossip. "Didn't you hear?" she tittered. "Potter saw the Grim in his cup."

"That's the best news I've heard all year. Maybe he'll drop dead." said Hermione, grinning a little.

"Care of Magical Creatures is next." said Hermione.

"Can you believe Dumbledore made that oaf a teacher?" Draco asked in disgust. "I expected a proper teacher like Kettleburn."

"Well it'll be nice to get out of the castle." said Daphne. She was right. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

Soon they stopped at a paddock near the outskirts of the forest.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it - make sure yeh can see - now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books -"

"How?" said Draco Malfoy.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Hermione repeated. She took out her copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn' - hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look -"

He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Draco sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I - I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Hermione. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"This is so stupid!" agreed Pansy.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Potter quietly, and they threw him mocking gazes before shutting up.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so - so yeh've got yer books an'...an'...now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on..."

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"Gods this place has gone to the dogs." said Draco loudly. "I wanted a proper teacher like Kettleburn, not some half giant filth."

"He's incompetent." Hermione agreed.

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Herminoe had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Hippogriffs." muttered Hermione.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the Hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"They're ugly." said Draco, and Hermione glared.

"Try to appreciate nature a little." she snapped quietly.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer..."

No one wanted to go up, but Hermione decided to try it. Slowly, she walked up, Potter and Weasley behind her for some reason.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

That ruled out Draco approaching one. Hermione snorted. Draco would never bow to a hippogriff.

"Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

"Right - who wants ter go first?"

"I'll do it." said Potter, approaching the fence. Even Hermione wasn't going to do that.

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid. "Right then - let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar.

"I hope he dies." said Draco maliciously, and Hermione smirked. "Play nice Draco."

They noticed the hippogriff staring haughtily and Potter, and the boy started to back away from his bow, before he sank down in his scaly knees in a bow.

"Well done, Harry!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right - yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

"I want to do that." murmured Hermione longingly.

"Why?" asked Daphne, quirking her eyebrow.

"Do you know what it's like to tame a hippogriff? He would respect me forever." she replied.

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

Potter flew up on the hippogriff, clutching tightly. Hermione watched as he flew out of sight before returning.

"Good work, Harry!" roared Hagrid, as Potter descended. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Potter's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock.

Hermione and her friends had taken over Buckbeak. He had easily bowed to Hermione, who had stared at him almost glaring, before letting her pet him.

"Come on Draco!" she invited. "This isn't too hard."

Soon all of her friends were petting Buckbeak. Hermione and Daphne had started to groom him, and Buckbeak was preening under all the love.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Potter to, hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it...I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me - gotta get him outta here -"

Hermione could only stare before running out following them, and thinking of how she would KILL Draco for this when he was healed. Hermione went up to see Draco, and saw that the cut was already healed.

"It was a superficial cut." he told them, a grin on his face. "It didn't even touch the muscle."

Hermione was silent throughout all this.

"Mione?" he asked in concern. "Are you alright?"

"No Draco, I'm not alright!" she exploded. "You deliberately goaded Buckbeak into doing something like that! Hippogriffs have been killed for less than that!"

Draco was gaping at her as she stormed out, completely angry at him. That night when he came back to the common room he found Hermione reading on the couch, wrapped in a cozy green blanket which had been his birthday present to her.

"Mione?" he said in a quiet voice, coming to sit next to her.

She sighed, and put the book down. "Yes Draco?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have goaded Buckbeak like that. I've already convinced Pansy not to tell father so that Buckbeak doesn't get in trouble."

"Thank you Draco." she smiled, and he saw her brown eyes shine before she pulled the blanket around them, pulling him close. "It means a lot to me."

"I know." he whispered, barely noticing as she drifted off. "That's why I did it."


	14. Chapter 14

Thursday's Potions class was the shrinking solution. Hermione rolled her eyes as she concocted the laughably easy potion, she had finished this at the beginning of last year. She had spent the last quarter of an hour chopping her daisy roots perfectly with Theo, because as Professor Snape repeated- ingredient preparation is key.

She started on putting the daisy roots in while stirring, and Theo skinned the shrivelfig. He started putting that in, while she sliced the caterpillars. He put those in, and after a few stirs she added the required dash of leech juice, before putting it to simmer.

A few cauldrons away, Longbottom was in trouble. Longbottom regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned -

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see.

Hermione stifled a giggle at the obvious mistake. He obviously added two cat spleens, not one.

"Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one cat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Longbottom was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," said Lily Moon, who was now best friends with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, "please, I could help Neville put it right -"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Moon," said Snape coldly, and Moon went as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. Hermione laughed under her breath as she pulled the potion off simmer to add some valerian water. Idiots. As if Professor Snape would try to kill the toad. He already knew that Moon would help Longbottom.

Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."

As she went to wash her hands Hermione laughed at Longbottom, and Theo bottled their Potion, securing one for her like always.

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.

"Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Moon. Class dismissed."

"That was fun." Draco grinned.

"It's always fun watching Snape torture the Gryffindorks." said Blaise lightly.

"I'm off to Ancient Runes." Hermione told them, walking off alone.

Ancient Runes was in a classroom near the dungeons, but above them. The room was painted sky blue with golden runes inscribed all over the walls. Hermione took her seat next to some Ravenclaw. Soon the class started.

"Hello class. I am Professor Babbling, and this is Ancient Runes." said a tall and sprightly woman, with curly black hair and a smile. "We will start today by having a small pop quiz on the book, and hopefully we can move on. By the end of the year, we want everyone to be able to make basic magic runes on any surface, though the most magically inclined is marble. Let's start."

Overall, Hermione had a good impression of the class.

"How was it?" Pansy asked at lunch as they ate.

"Wonderful." she grinned. "We make a bag of runes at the end of the year, so now I can take magic home."

"You'll be coming to Malfoy Manor right after school." said Draco firmly.

"Come on." said Goyle. "We have Defense."

Professor Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

Hermione exchanged an excited look with her friends. Maybe this teacher wouldn't be biased against Slytherins like all the others.

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

They walked until they reached the Teacher's Lounge. It was empty. It was full of old mismatched chairs and a wardrobe in a corner.

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Hermione stared at him. They would be facing their worst fears. In front of the entire class. Just… Wow. Human stupidity.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks - I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice."

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Goyle's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it yet Mr. Malfoy?"

"Er - because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake - tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

'The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please...riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" said the class together.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. Everyone line up. I will open the wardrobe, and you will all face your fears. Everyone here is a Slytherin, so I hope none of you will spill your classmates secrets as some form of petty schoolyard revenge."

Hermione pushed into line, between Pansy and Daphne. "Go!" said Professor Lupin, and he started to play some classy jazz music. Millicent Bulstrode went first. With a pop, a banshee appeared in front of her. She had floor length black hair and a skeletal, green tinged face.

"Riddikulus!"shouted Milli, and she started clawing at her throat, unable to speak.

Tracy Davis was scared of small spaces, Crabbe was afraid of spiders, and funnily enough, Goyle was afraid of the library. Hermione snorted. That explained why he never studied. Then came Pansy. She was scared of the dark. Hermione was next. She opened her mouth and got ready to shout, but the scene made her stand still.

It was some parallel universe, where Hermione was a Gryffindor. Draco was sneering at her, and she had never seen such hate on his face. "Mudblood." he sneered, and Hermione glared. That would never happen!

"Riddikulus!" she shouted, and it turned into Draco wearing an I LOVE WEASLEY shirt, with red and gold striped hair. The class burst into laughter, and Hermione laughed too, though it was tinged with a bit of hysteria. Daphne was scared of bad hair, and Theo was scared of his father. However, his father looked cruel in the boggart, not a kind face like he usually had. Blaise's was the best. He was scared of being ugly. Draco's was the worst. He was scared of hippogriffs. His boggart was Buckbeak, but a violent version attacking him.

"Being ugly? Really?" Theo was laughing at the end of class.

"It's not funny." snapped Blaise. "Can you imagine me ugly?"

"I can. You are." replied Theo dryly, and with a bark, Blaise pulled out his wand to hex Theo.

"Draco, are you alright?" Pansy was simpering.

"I'm fine." he replied roughly. "It's just a hippogriff." But Hermione knew that he was scared. Later at dinner they found out that in the same Gryffindor lesson, the Gryffindors recieved points for each boggart, and for the questions answered correctly.

"We didn't receive any points!" Hermione ranted.

"We're Slytherins." replied Pansy with a bitter smile, and Hermione sighed. Like always.

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Though Hermione still disliked Lupin for being biased against Slytherins, he was a good teacher. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After Boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps they moved on to Kappas, creepy. water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

Quidditch had stayed the same, and Hermione continued to heal bruises after injury. After a particularly horrible practice where Pucey flew so fast that his broom actually caught fire, Hermione started making burn salve. It turned out that the Weasley Twins took the anti flame charm off his broom. As retaliation, the Carrow Twins hexed them and hung them off the Astronomy Tower. It was Marcus's last year before he left, and then Pucey would become captain.

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why did we take this class again?" Draco groaned, not even flinching as Goyle had a flobberworm bite him.

"You tell me." Theo scoffed.

It was going to be Halloween in a little, and a Hogsmeade weekend was scheduled on that day.

"Does everyone have the slip?" Pansy asked.

"Got my parents to sign in." said Hermione with a grin.

"Hermione, it's your bloody cat again." Draco said with a disgruntled look.

"Oh look!" Hermione cooed, seeing her fat ginger cat holding a thin and balding yellow rat in his mouth.

"A rat!" said Theo. "The new House pet." he struck a dramatic pose.

"Mr Ugly." said Pansy with a look of distaste.

And so Mr Ugly the rat became a house pet, and they all took turns feeding him. Later in Divination, Pansy pulled them to the side.

"Remember how the bat was mooning about something bad on the 16th of October?" she hissed, referring to Trelawney. "Well, Lavender Brown's bunny died today."

"So there might be something to her ramblings." concluded Hermione.

"I'm off to Potions." she said later that day, and she slipped off to her usual potions lessons.

"Ah, Miss Granger." said Snape. "Today we will be brewing wolfsbane potion."

Hermione paled, before setting off to work, procuring a shrivelfig, wolfsbane, moonstone, fairy wing, and a number of other ingredients. It was the hardest potion she ever brewed, but she managed.

Soon it was time to go to Hogsmeade. Hermione bundled herself in a nice pair of jeans, a green shirt, and a thick silver jacket. Hogsmeade was amazing, like nothing she had ever seen! They picked up school equipment from Dervish and Bangs, visited the Shrieking Shack, stopped at Zonkos, and mostly stayed at the Three Broomsticks for butterbeer. The drink was warm and frothy as it went down her throat.

"I like Hogsmeade." grinned Pansy contentedly, resting her head on Draco's shoulder as they walked back. Hermione was piggy backing Crabbe, and Daphne Goyle, and the two were racing boys. Blaise and Theo were betting on who was faster. After dropping by the Common Room and changing into comfortable clothes, they went up to the Great Hall.

It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

"What I've never understood," said Flora, "Is why they have a feast right after people come back from Hogsmeade stuffed with sweets from Honeydukes and butterbeer."

"Dumbledore," said Hermione, "is the leading cause of obesity in Great Britain."

"Cheers to that!" roared Marcus, and laughing they cheered.

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

"I love this feast." sighed Daphne, as they went up.

"Best feast ever." nodded Blaise.

"Does it ever bother you?" asked Daphne as they changed into nightclothes. "Seeing Draco with Pansy like that."

"He's allowed to date who he wants." Hermione said uncomfortably.

Daphne only smirked and went to bed. Before any of them could sleep, however, they were woken up.

"We're needed downstairs!" said Pansy.

Hermione went down, and sat on her usual couch. Slytherin House looked like a meeting of small nobles, with the entire house downstairs, but in their PJ's.

"Everyone is to go to the Great Hall." said Snape. "Sirius Black got into Gryffindor House."

They all trooped down to the Great Hall, quickly fixing their hair along the way. "The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge.

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..."

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," said Professor Dumbledore, closing the door behind him.

"Let's just sleep." Hermione sighed, as all the Slytherins chose the most strategic corner. It was in the corner opposite the doors and antechamber, so they were the safest.

"Why did Black even break in?" Blaise wondered.

"You tell me." snorted Daphne.

"How did he get in?" asked Hermione.

"Excellent question Princess." Blaise grinned.

"Disguise." said Elan, listing the obvious choice.

"He can't get in through disguise." scoffed Hermione. "Read Hogwarts a History."

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of their next Herbology class telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub.

"That's stupid!" Theo yelped as they walked from Herbology.

"She's a Hufflepuff." smirked Draco, gaping at him as though it were obvious.

"Guess What?" smirked Marcus, hurrying into the room.

"Chicken Butt." they all chorused, and Hermione laughed.

"No, I got our team out of playing in the rain." said Marcus. "The weather didn't look good so I got the cut Draco had on his arm as an excuse. Now the Hufflepuffs are playing."

"Thank god." sighed Hermione. "I thought you were all going to kill yourselves."

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, since they wouldn't have to play.

Hermione was now sitting in DADA, and instead of Lupin coming in, Professor Snape came in.

"Professor Lupin is too sick today, so I will be teaching." he said softly.

" Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far. Can one of you tell me what you have already covered?"

"Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows," said Hermione quickly.

"Thank you Miss Granger. Today we will work on," he flipped to the back of the book, "Werewolves."

There was a murmur at this, most of them had been hoping to start the harder topics, instead of working on these creatures.

"Turn to page 394." said Professor Snape, and they all turned. There was a picture of a wolf on two legs, growling, and Hermione was struck by the savage way they looked.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" said Snape.

Theo raised his hand in the air. "Mr Nott?" Snape asked.

"The werewolf differs from the wolf in several ways. The snout of the werewolf is longer, and the claws are more tufted. Their tail also behaves in a more human way, and they generally walk on two not four legs."

"Good, ten points to Slytherin."

The rest of the lesson continued like this, and it was more informative than a week of Lupin's lessons combined.

"I want two feet on werewolves by Monday. Dismissed." said Professor Snape.

"Finally!" Blaise mooned. "A good lesson!"

"I know." Pansy snorted.

"Ready for Quidditch?" Draco asked with a grin.

"I can't wait to watch Gryffindor and Hufflepuff get soaked in the rain." Hermione smirked.

"I'm pretty sure it will just be a light sprinkle." said Vincent.

But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went.

"Warming and Drying Charms!" Elan shouted to them before disappearing into the crowd.

"Why didn't we think of that?" Daphne wondered as they all applied the charms before hurrying to the section of the stands that was covered.

"It's because we're idiots." Draco replied with a small smile.

Soon the game started, but Hermione could barely see the players swerving and dodging. Lee Jordan's microphone had been amplified nearly 16 times its usual volume, and Hermione was completely relying on it, wondering how the boy could even see.

Gryffindor called a timeout, and then the game continued. Then, it all went cold. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar.

"Dementors." chattered Blaise, who was freezing despite the warming charms. There they were, the long black cloaked creatures, with scabby hands and cold breath. Hermione shuddered at her first real look at a dementor. Frost swept the field.

Hermione vaguely noticed Dumbledore chasing the dementors away with a silvery light, but mostly she was worrying about keeping herself warm, barely noticing when all Slytherin students shepherded themselves to the exit.

"Who won?" Hermione asked back in the common room once she had been warmed up.

"Hufflepuff." said Draco grimly.

"Better than Gryffindor." smiled Theo, trying to look at the bright side.

"I'm going to Professor Snape." said Hermione softly, leaving the room.

"Yes Miss Granger?" he asked when she entered his office. "I believe that Potions are tomorrow."

"What's the silvery thing Dumbledore used to stop the dementors?" Hermione asked.

"It is a complicated charm known as the Patronus Charm."

"Teach me how to cast it."

"Miss Granger," he scoffed, "I hardly think a thirteen year old girl like yourself will be able to cast such an advanced charm."

"Then teach me." replied Hermione, more determined.

Professor Snape had a haggard look on his face before he sighed, and Hermione smiled brightly. "Very well Granger, but first you should learn about the dementor. Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself - soul-less and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. A patronus can only be cast be summoning up your happiest memories, and they will take a corporeal form if one is strong enough."

"What's your sir?"

Instead of answering, he muttered under his breath and a bright white doe appeared in the room, prancing around. Hermione was struck. "She's beautiful." Hermione breathed.

"She was." said Snape softly.

"What's the charm?" Hermione asked.

"Expecto Patronum. Think of your happiest memories while you say it, something that makes you truly happy."

Hermione closed her eyes and searched her feelings for a happy memory. She had a lot of them at Hogwarts. She decided on the moment she was sorted into Slytherin and made new friends immediately.

"Expecto Patronum." she said, and a silvery mist left her wand, before sputtering out.

"You need a stronger memory." said Snape.

Hermione thought again, before choosing the happiness and acceptance she felt at the Malfoy's for Summer Break.

"Expecto Patronum!" she said louder, but only a silvery mist came from her wand again. Suddenly tired from all the strong magic, Hermione sat down, barely noticing as Snape gave her a piece of chocolate to eat.

"Search for a happy memory and come back next Wednesday." he said gently.

Hermione grinned and left. Time continued, and winter break was sneaking up on them, Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays.

"You're coming to Malfoy Manor, right?" Draco asked hopefully.

"I could never say no." Hermione smirked.

"Come on you two." Daphne grumbled. "Let's go to Hogsmeade."

Bundled up in warm jackets, Hermione piggy backed Crabbe outside again, and won the race against Daphne and Greg.

"Look!" murmured Theo, and they all clumped closer to get a good look.

BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.

Merry Christmas!

"Well we know for sure the place is safe now." Hermione muttered.

"Come on!" said Draco, rushing into Honeydukes. Hermione followed with the rest of the gang at a more sedate pace. Draco and his sweet tooth. "Jelly Slugs or Fizzing Whizzbees?" he asked.

"Acid Pops." Pansy drawled, and they all laughed at the look of disgust on his face.

"Never thought I'd see Draco with that look when it comes to candy." Hermione teased.

When they finally left the sweet shop, there was a blizzard outside. Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.

"Three Broomsticks?" Draco asked.

"Definitely." Blaise moaned.

Hermione loved the Three Broomsticks. It was a beautiful place. It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face, Madame Rosmerta, was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

"You reckon we can get Firewhiskey in here?" Theo muttered, and Hermione gaped.

"We're underage!"

"Lighten up." smirked Draco.

"We can't." sniffed Pansy. "Maybe if we went to the Hogs Head, but that place is dreadful."

"Merlin!" Hermione breathed over her warm butterbeer. "Is that McGonagall and Flitwick?"

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak - Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

"And Hagrid and Fudge!" said Vincent.

"Damn." Daphne said. "They're getting a private room. I would love to eavesdrop on that conversation."

The next day Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express and was at Malfoy Manor before she knew it. Hermione spent her time there like always, playing and laughing with her friends. The Malfoy's had a wonderful section of the library devoted to healing, and Hermione had devoured many of the books in there. The only hitch came on the day before the Christmas Dinner.

Mrs Malfoy was working on designs for her fashion line when a shrill high shriek echoed from Hermione's room.

"Hermione?" she asked, hurrying there and entering to see Hermione huddled in a corner pointing at a pair of white panties.

"Miss Malfoy!" she shriek sobbed. "My panties, they- it- red- I just…"

"Hermione." said Narcissa gently, giving her a calming tea. "Is there blood on your panties?"

"Yes." said Hermione with wide eyes.

Narcissa burst into laughter. "My dear, that's natural. It's called your periods. Didn't your mother teach you about them?"

"No. I only read about them." Hermione snapped.

"Well they are part of a woman's menses. They will happen every month for a few days, and are nothing more than blood coming out of your privates. All women have them!"

"I had thought only muggles got them." Hermione blushed.

"We wish." she chuckled. "But we have an easier way to deal with them. All you must do is cast an absorption charm on your panties."

"That's not too bad." said Hermione, calming down.

"The incantation is Sorbere."

"I'm sorry for panicking." she blushed.

"I'm alright." Narcissa smiled, before leaving the room.

Hermione's eyes followed her with a pang in her heart. What she would give for that woman to be her mother. The next day was the Christmas Dinner, and Hermione pulled on her dress for the dinner. Narcissa had designed it herself, and it was one of the top dresses in her fashion line Cisstastic, in the new spring line that wasn't out yet. It was a silver halter style dress that ended a little above her knees. Paired with a long pair of silver earrings, the silver bracelet Blaise gave her for Christmas, and a pair of silver strappy heels, she was ready. Her hair was straightened and pulled into a complicated and cinched bun braid. She had on light silver eyeshadow and her face was paled by a shade. Pink lip gloss finished it, and Hermione looked amazing.

"Will you let me take a picture honey?" asked Narcissa.

"Why?" she asked.

"For my fashion line of course. This dress is perfect, but with you as a model it's even better. It would go in the catalog! And you would be paid, if you would like."

Hermione paused to think of this. A model! She had never thought of doing such a thing but it seemed like a good job until she grew up.

"I'd like to." she said quietly.

"Excellent!" Narcissa gushed. "Now I want you to sit on the handrest of that green couch, yes, now pull yourself back a little and smile!"

Hermione smiled, perched on the handrest. This was going to be fun! After the pictures, Hermione walked down to the main room for kids.

"Hermione!" Pansy squealed, dragging her over to a girl corner. "You look amazing!"

Daphne was in a high necked teal gown, combined with peach belt that went until her knees. Her hair was loose and curled, her lips natural, and her eyes outlined darkly. Pansy was in a light blue open shoulder dress with a few ruffles, her hair straightened. Her eyeshadow was unusually sparse, with only a few dabs of light blue, but the giant necklace around her neck made up for it. It was golden with a blue opal in the middle hanging off the charm.

"Do you like it?" Pansy asked. "It was a present from Draco!"

Hermione smiled and laughed, doing her best to push down the pang of jealousy in her heart.

"OK!" Marcus Flint roared, quieting the room. "Everyone partner up!"

Last year Hermione was with Draco, but this year he paired up with Pansy since they were dating. Hermione stood around a little until she noticed Theo approach her. "Partners?" he asked with a soft smile, and Hermione grinned at her curly haired friend.

"I'd love too." she said gratefully, taking his hand. They entered the ballroom, and Hermione sat down with her friends.

"You all look wonderful." Blaise purred, mostly staring at Daphne's legs.

"Pervert." Daphne muttered, kicking him sharply.

Hermione winced. Daphne was wearing high pointy heels, with which she just jabbed him. "Don't mess with her." she smirked. "Daphne packs a punch."

"I know." Blaise replied, and Hermione just sighed and shook her head, before exchanging galleons with Draco. Throughout the evening, Daphne kicked Blaise 6 times. Hermione had bet 5 or more. Draco bet 10 or more. She won, and Blaise's shins were bruised.

Hermione went to bed and woke up the next day, before spending the rest of the day curled up in the library reading her new books, trying to ignore how much Draco was annoying her. Soon they were going back to Hogwarts, and Hermione had her hands full with Slytherin Quidditch Practice. The worst came after a practice before their big game against Gryffindor.

Hermione was healing a few bruises while the boys showered, and Draco went ahead. "I'm already done." he said. "I'll meet you in the Common Room Mione."

After everyone was good, Hermione walked back with the team, before she heard something. "Did you hear that?" she asked.

It sounded like someone was hurt. Hermione snuck there following Marcus, worried about what was going on. She didn't like what she found. The Gryffindor Quidditch Boys along with Weasley and Potter were standing around the bruised body of Draco Malfoy laughing meanly.

"Drop him in the lake!" Weasley jeered, and with an evil grin one of the Twins levitated him up. Hermione felt rage fill her. Bastards. She started to pull out her wand, but was stopped.

"Let me hex them!" she snarled, a truly primordial angry expression on her face.

"Wait." said Abraham Montague quietly, and Adrian Pucey, a prefect, came forward.

"What is going on here?" he asked coldly, and in their shock the Weasley Twins dropped Draco on his head. "This is plain bullying. We're going to a teacher."

Abraham let go of Hermione and she immediately rushed to his side, putting his head on his lap, and running a scan of his body. Now she was all businesslike.

"Broken Leg. Black Eye, Fractured tendon in his elbow, and one broken rib. Multiple jinxes and hexes on him, including Jelly Legs and Boils. He has a minor concussion, and a few small burns from the stinging jinx. I can't handle this here, I'll have to take him to the dorms."

"Abraham, Terrence, you two lift him up carefully. Hermione, run to the castle and set up what you need. We'll take him to your room. We'll go on broom to be faster. Adrian and Mitch are taking the Gryffindors to the castle." said Marcus.

Hermione ran to her room, barely noticing her friends worried expressions. When Pansy and Daphne entered she enlisted their help. "You two!" she barked. "I need you to go down to the Potions Lab and pull by Healing Salve off the fire. Daphne, stay here."

"What happened?" Pansy asked with a frightened expression on her face.

"Draco was hurt by some Gryffindors." she said softly, before going back into her business mode.

"Hermione they're coming!" shrieked Daphne, and carefully Draco was set on the bed.

Hermione carefully tipped a light blue potion in his mouth. "Pain reliever." she explained.

Moving on she healed his bruises and removed to jinxes. "This part is going to hurt." she said. "I need two of you to hold his leg still while I heal the bones. It'll feel like they're being snapped into place, and will hurt."

Carefully Daphne and Marcus lined up, holding his leg. With a spell, Hermione snapped his leg back into place and healed his bones. Draco screamed in pain, and Hermione nearly cried, but pulled herself together.

"I'll need the same for his elbow." Hermione said, but this time she tipped a small potion in his mouth. With another scream, Draco passed out.

"Is he fine?" Pansy shrieked.

"Fine." Hermione replied. "I gave him a potion for his concussion and his elbow, a spell healed his leg and bruises, and the healing salve soothed his skin from the stinging jinx."

"What about the game?" Abraham asked. It was at this point that Hermione noticed that the entire team and all her friends were in her dorm.

"He won't be able to play tomorrow." said Hermione. "Madame Pomfrey would say that too."

"We'll have to forfeit!" said Terrence.

"We can't." said Marcus grimly. "One forfeit per season, and we used it against the Gryffindors at the beginning of the year. We have to find a reserve."

"We don't have a reserve!" Adrian panicked.

"My big brother Elan is pretty good at flying." volunteered Pansy, who was sitting next to Draco stroking his head.

"We'll have to hope he's good enough. Let's go." said Marcus, walking out.

"Where will you sleep?" asked Blaise.

"I'll take Draco's bed." she said softly, before changing and getting ready.

As Hermione snuggled into the blankets, she wondered why. Why did he have to be attacked for no reason? People said Slytherins were monsters, but Gryffindors were just as bad. They were worse. Mentally, Hermione added some people to her TO KILL list. Oliver Wood. Fred Weasley. George Weasley. Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley. Every single one of them would die.


	15. Chapter 15

They lost the Quidditch Game to Potter again, and Hermione wondered for not the first time why she bothered with this sport. Worst of all, Potter had received a Firebolt! A bloody Firebolt!

When Draco woke up and found out he was in a tiff for days, but what cheered him up was that even with winning all their Quidditch Games Gryffindor would not win the House Cup. Every single one of the people involved in his attack had been given detention, and Professor Snape took great pleasure in scheduling them on the days of their practices. Each of them had lost 75 points, but best of all, they were embarrassed in front of the school thanks to Hermione.

Dear Miss Skeeter,

Hello. My name is Hermione Granger, muggleborn. I'm a third year Slytherin, and I was hoping you could help me out. A few days ago my friend Draco Malfoy was brutally attacked by some Gryffindors, and it prevented him from playing in the Quidditch Game. He received a concussion, bruises, a broken tendon, a shattered bone, a broken rib, and some burns from hexes. He was out for nearly two days, and still is not allowed to play Quidditch due to the damage in his leg.

We were not able to go to Madame Pomfrey due to the fact that she favors Gryffindors, and would not have helped him. I know this is very presumptuous of me, but I was hoping you could write an article about this discrediting the boys who attacked my friend. They are: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, and Oliver Wood.

Yours Truly,

Hermione Granger

Dear Miss Granger,

I was delighted to see your letter! Not many people have the courage to go up to someone and ask for what they want. I completely understand where you come from. I was a half-blood Slytherin and have seen some of the horrible things Gryffindors do. Please continue to write to me, perhaps we could have a partnership.

By the way, I love the dress you modeled. I was sent a copy of my daily fashion magazine and you look stunning!

Sincerely,

Rita Skeeter

Slytherin Student attacked!

By Rita Skeeter

Hello my readers, and today I would like to inform you all about an injustice performed at Hogwarts. A few days ago, right before the big Gryffindor Slytherin match Slytherin Seeker Draco Malfoy was brutally injured. By whom, you may ask? The answer is a group of errant Gryffindor boys: Oliver Wood, Ronald Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, and worst of all, Harry Potter.

I would like to pause for a moment and think of this- Harry Potter, the supposed Savior, has turned out to be a cruel bully!

Mr Malfoy's injuries were a concussion, broken tendon in his elbow, shattered leg, bruises, broken rib, and burns from jinxes. He was healed by his classmate Hermione Granger, who did not trust the Hogwarts Healer enough.

"The entire school is against us. I know that sounds dumb, but they all hate me just for my house! It's absurd, and we have to learn to protect ourselves. Every teacher is the same too- I have gathered statistics on it." says Slytherin Student Hermione Granger.

"It's a travesty!" says father Lucius Malfoy. "My son was seriously injured, but couldn't even trust the school nurse! On top of that, the students have only recieved two months worth of detention and 75 points from each."

"Dumbledore has always done this. The Gryffindors are his precious students, while my snakes are forced to grow up to protect themselves. Many have found that I am biased towards Slytherins in my classes, but I make up for the points they lose in other classes." says Potions Professor Severus Snape.

And there you have the full story folks! Can you believe it! Should we continue to allow a full house of students to be segregated against, or should we stop it! I'm Rita Skeeter, and this is the Daily Prophet.

Hermione laughed while reading the article. It was perfect. Hermione noticed how a number of students were glaring at the Gryffindors, and grinned. Harry Potter in particular was looking pale at the article.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" sighed Draco, sitting down. "This is wonderful!"

"There's our Hermione!" said Hestia, wiping away a fake tear. "Already moving mountains!"

"This might actually help." grinned Chastity Knight.

And help it did. Throughout the week, a number of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs came to apologize for their actions. Gryffindor did nothing, and Hermione was elated. Just last week Susan Bones had pushed her off, but today she came and apologized. Not everyone did it, but it was a start.

Even when Mr Ugly the rat escaped Hermione was happy. Hermione's patronus lessons had continued, and Hermione's patronus had solidified enough for Hermione to tell it was avian. She had done some reading too.

The Patronus can take many shapes and forms, but magical creatures are the rarest. Dragons, Phoenixes, and Thestrals are among the rarest magical creatures a person can have as their patronus. All animals signify different aspects of a person's life. It may become their loved ones animagus form, or change to fit their loved ones. Lions, for example, usually come from brash but brave people, while Snakes come from Ambitious but kind people. True love occurs when a person's Patronus changes to match the patronus of their true love.

"Hermione!" bellowed Blaise, and Hermione looked up in annoyance from her book. She had of course been forced to sit at the Gryffindor Ravenclaw Game, but it was garbage. Lee Jordan talked about nothing other than the Firebolt, and when Gryffindor finally won he took great pleasure in bellowing, "HA! TAKE THAT SLYTHERIN! WE WON!"

Hermione decided to write to Rita about the biased Quidditch commentary, and hope that it could be solidified into an article. Her aim was to enlighten the Wizarding World on their biases.

"Slytherins." announced Professor Snape the next morning, when they were all ready for breakfast. "Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor again, nearly killing Ronald Weasley with a knife. Security has been tightened. Be warned. I would also like to award Miss Granger 30 points for the perfect brewing of Wolfsbane Potion, a seventh year level potion."

Hermione grinned and blushed, but they moved on. Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Professor Snape had taught every Slytherin stunning spells in case he came to Slytherin.

A few days later, Neville Longbottom received a Howler, and Hermione practically cackled as his grandmother started shrieking at him for defiling the family name.

"What did he do to get that?" Draco wondered.

"He wrote down the week's password and left it lying around for Sirius Black to find." smirked Hermione, and even Draco was in awe at the stupidity of Longbottom.

A month later Hogsmeade came, and dressed in a lighter black skirt and flowy silver shirt, Hermione went to Hogsmeade with her friends, enjoying the sunlight.

The day was light and breezy, so none of them wanted to be indoors.

"Shrieking Shack?" Hermione offered.

"Sounds cool." grinned Draco.

When they walked up, they were sadly greeted with Weasley, who was alone for some reason.

"What are you doing, Weasley?" he asked.

Hermione looked up at the crumbling house behind Ron.

"Suppose you'd love to live here, wouldn't you, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all sleep in one room - is that true?" she taunted.

SPLAT!

Draco's head jerked forward as the mud hit him; his silverblond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.

"What the -?"

Weasley had to hold onto the fence to keep himself standing, he was laughing so hard. The rest of them spun around, trying to figure out where it came from.

"What was that? Who did that?" Blaise snapped.

"Very haunted up here, isn't it?" said Weasley, with the air of one commenting on the weather.

Quickly, Daphne pulled out her wand and hexed him, but before Hermione could shield them, a glob of mud hit Daphne and she gasped. Her hair. Her beautiful golden blonde hair. Quickly, Hermione erected a shield around them which would splatter the mud back at the attacker.

SPLATTER!

Hermione saw the vague outline of a boy, and immediately realized how he was hiding. Invisibility Cloaks. She had read about them. And if Weasley was here the boy was probably Potter…

"STUPEFY!" Theo shouted, catching on quick.

Potter dropped down, and with a small cry of rage, Weasley launched himself at Theo. He went down thanks to a quick stunner from Greg.

"I wonder what Professor Snape would think about this." Pansy wondered, lips curling maliciously.

Half an hour later Gryffindor was down 50 points and Potter and Weasley had another month of detention, along with the Invisibility Cloak confiscated, though Dumbledore made Snape give it back. Hermione, grumbled about it for a long time.

"An Invisibility Cloak!" she ranted. "That can't be allowed!"

"He's a Gryffindor." chorused the others, and Hermione scowled.

Hermione was in Divination, wondering again why she took this class.

"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Blaise muttered, casting a wary eye around for Professor Trelawney, in case she was lurking nearby.

"Don't complain, this means we've finished palmistry," Draco muttered back. "I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands."

Trelawney had proved to be an old bat, and every time she saw Draco she would flinch and say that dark magic surrounded him.

"Good day to you!" said the familiar, misty voice, and Professor Trelawney made her usual dramatic entrance out of the shadows.

"I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned," said Professor Trelawney, sitting with her back to the fire and gazing around. "The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

Hermione snorted.

"Well, honestly...'the fates have informed her'. Who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!" she said, not troubling to keep her voice low. Her friends choked back laughs, while Daphne silenced herself to let herself laugh.

It was hard to tell whether Professor Trelawney had heard them as her face was hidden in shadow. She continued, however, as though she had not.

"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," she said dreamily. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes -" Theo began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise - "so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of the class."

And so they began. Hermione, at least, felt extremely foolish, staring blankly at the crystal ball, trying to keep her mind empty when thoughts such as "this is stupid" kept drifting across it. It didn't help that Pansy kept breaking into silent giggles and Daphne kept tutting.

"Seen anything yet?" Hermione asked them after a quarter of an hour's quiet crystal gazing.

"Yeah, there's a burn on this table," said Draco, pointing. "Someone's spilled their candle."

Professor Trelawney rustled past.

"Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?" she murmured over the clinking of her bangles.

"I don't need help," Blaise whispered. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight."

Everyone at their table burst out laughing.

"Now, really!" said Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!" She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. Hermione felt her heart sinking. She was sure she knew what was coming -

"There is something here!" Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball, so that it was reflected twice in her huge glasses. "Something moving... but what is it?" She stared at Draco's ball.

Hermione was willing to bet that it had something to do with Dark Magic.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney breathed, gazing up at Draco. "It is here, plainer than ever before... my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer... the Dar -"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" said Hermione loudly. "Not that again! Did it ever occur to you that just because we're Slytherin doesn't mean we practice Dark Magic! I thought that not all the teachers would be biased hags, but I was wrong!"

Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger.

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

There was a moment's silence. Then -

"Fine!" said Hermione suddenly, getting up and cramming Unfogging the Future back into her bag. "Fine!" she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and almost knocking Theo off his chair. "I give up! I'm leaving!"

And to the whole class's amazement, Hermione strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.

Hermione spent the rest of the period in the common room, before going to dinner.

"How could you do that?" wondered Daphne.

"That woman gets on my nerves." Hermione mumbled. "We don't use Dark Magic."

A week later, Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup like always, and Hermione groaned, hoping for at least the House Cup.

Exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Flora and Hestia had been spotted working; they were about to take their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Elan was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Elan hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He wanted to become the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister.

Potions that afternoon was easy, and Hermione whipped through the Confusing Concoction, pocketing some like always. She was sure she had scored a full mark on that.

Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which Hermione scribbled everything she knew from books. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a baking-hot sun; then back to the common room once more, with sunburnt necks, thinking longingly of this time next day, when it would all be over.

Their second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.

"Outstanding grade," Lupin muttered as Hermione climbed out of the trunk, smirking. "Full marks."

Flushed with her success, Hermione hung around to watch Pansy and Theo. Theo did very well until he reached the Hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Pansy did everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the Boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming.

"I was ugly!" she shrieked, and Hermione immediately lost all composure and collapsed in laughter.

That evening Hermione was called to Professor Snape's office.

"Yes sir?" she asked politely.

"Miss Granger, I have a small test I would like you to take. I have already graded your Felix Felicis and it is not bad." Hermione flushed. By his standards, her potion was perfect.

Then, she took the test. The written portion was not too bad, and Hermione from all her reading zipped through it. Then began the practical. She was brewing literally the hardest potion there was, Veritaserum. After two hours, and a lot of sweat, Hermione had finished, and her potion looked pretty good.

"Miss Granger," began Professor Snape after her potion was bottled and done, "You have no idea of how proud I am. You have been my diligent student for three years, and suffice to say that you have learned much. Do you remember the quiz I gave you in January?"

Hermione remembered. It was laughably easy, and she had wondered why Snape bothered with such a thing.

"That was an OWL level test, and you received an Outstanding on that."

Hermione gaped at him. Third Year and she passed her OWLS!

"I would like to give you a small gift, for your time as my pupil. We will continue, but the lessons will be more to refine your skills."

He pulled out a black box with golden engravings in it, and Hermione looked at it in wonder. The engravings were in the shapes of vines of roses except for a place in the middle of the top, where one word was engraved in it- PRINCESS. It was tiny, and fit into her hand, but when Hermione opened it it expanded to nearly as large as her torso. Inside was every single potion she had ever brewed.. In a special compartment Hermione noticed the special potions like Veritaserum, Felix Felicis, and Contraceptive. In another compartment was her healing potions, nutrient potions, and joke potions.

Hermione felt a lump in her throat. "Sir." she said in a cracked voice, before doing what no student had ever done. Hugging Professor Snape.

Hermione wasn't even sure if she was thinking straight, but all she knew was that this was a beautiful gift, and meant a lot. Surprisingly, Snape didn't push her away, but when Hermione pulled away, pink cheeked, who only smiled. Not a snarky or sadistic smile, but a real, small smile.

"Why princess?" she asked.

"Ask your friends." he replied, before shooing her out.

"Guys?" she asked, hurrying towards her friends, box in her robe pocket, but then noticed that they were following some people.

"Weasley and Potter are sneaking out again." Draco said softly, and with a small smirk, Hermione followed. The two went outside, where for some reason Weasley was mauled by a black dog and pulled into a passageway in the Whomping Willow. After Potter froze the tree, they followed. After ten minutes of fast walking in drafty passages, they arrived in a room.

It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

"It's the Shrieking Shack." muttered Blaise, and looking around Hermione saw the similarities. They followed Potter into an upstairs room where Weasley was on the bed, his leg at a crooked angle, Crookshanks sitting on top of him.

Then the door closed behind them, and Hermione watched in horror as they were trapped in the room, barely hiding. The man that had closed the door was ugly.

A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.

"Expelliarmus!" he croaked, pointing Weasley's wand at Potter.

"I thought you'd come and help your friend," he said hoarsely.

His voice sounded as though he had long since lost the habit of using it. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful...it will make everything much easier..."

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" Weasley said fiercely, though the effort of standing upright was draining him of still more color, and he swayed slightly as he spoke. Hermione rolled her eyes at the fool, before jumping out.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried, disarming Black.

"Granger." snarled Weasley, but Hermione just stared at Black. Why wasn't he attacking? A loyal lieutenant to the Dark Lord shouldn't have been bested by such a spell.

Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Greg, Vince, and Daphne followed her out, wands raised.

"Hello Mister Black." Hermione said quietly. "Now you have a few moments to tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

"You couldn't kill him!" scoffed Potter, and Hermione looked at him coldly.

"I am carrying 6 different poisons with me right now." and her remark shut him up.

"Granger?" Black asked. "I don't think that's a name I recognize."

"She's muggleborn." Draco sneered.

"She's a Slytherin!" scoffed Black.

"Turns out we aren't a bunch of racist aresholes. Amazing." drawled Blaise.

"So, you gonna kill?" Pansy asked.

"There'll be only one murder here tonight," said Black, and he grinned.

"Why?" Potter spat. "Wasn't enough for you to kill my parents? Going to kill me too?"

"Shut up Potter." Daphne groaned.

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Potter bellowed, lunging at Black.

Hermione couldn't see exactly what happened, but next thing she knew Black was choking Potter, and Hermione chose to watch.

"Aren't you going to help him?" Weasley spat.

"But I don't like Potter." she stated, making it sound obvious.

Suddenly Potter gained the upper hand and cornered Black, but before Potter could hurt him Crookshanks jumped on Black and stared.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing?" What was her cat doing? It was known that Kneazles didn't associate with evil people, and Crooks was half Kneazle.

The seconds lengthened. And still Potter stood frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Weasley's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was quite silent.

And then came a new sound -

Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor - someone was moving downstairs.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE - SIRIUS BLACK - QUICK!"

The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Hermione wheeled around as Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Weasley, lying on the floor, over the Slytherins, sitting on chairs watching, to Potter, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Potter's feet.

"Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouted.

The wands slid out of Hermione's hands.

Then Lupin spoke, in a very tense voice.

"Where is he, Sirius?"

Hermione looked quickly at Lupin. She didn't understand what Lupin meant. Who was Lupin talking about? She turned to look at Black again.

Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Weasley. Mystified, Hermione glanced around at Weasley, who looked bewildered.

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "...why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" - Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "- unless he was the one...unless you switched... without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded.

"Professor," Potter interrupted loudly, "what's going on -?"

But he never finished the question. Lupin was lowering his wand, gazing fixed at Black. The Professor walked to Black's side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother.

"WHAT!" Hermione shrieked. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE HELPING US!"

"I am Miss Granger." Lupin replied.

"Yeah right!" Hermione laughed sardonically. "As if I could trust you. Guys, he's a werewolf!"

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

"I'm afraid Miss Granger is right." he said slowly. "I am a werewolf. But how did you find out?"

"I've known for ages." Hermione sneered. "My first clue was how you were always sick around the full moon. Then Professor Snape assigned the essay on werewolves, giving me more information. Around November, my Potions lessons with him progressed to such a level that I started brewing your Wolfsbane, and that was the final key. After, I did some research. Remus John Lupin, bitten by Fenrir Greyback at the age of 5 on the eve of his birthday. You attended Hogwarts and became a prefect though not head boy. Your grades were all excellent and you were among the top Gryffindors in your year. You were best friends with James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. When you were 16 your parents died and you went to live at Potter Manor."

They all looked astounded. "You found all that from research?" Lupin questioned.

"Mh hm." Hermione nodded. "Newspapers, books, school records, and some talking with Mr and Mrs Malfoy."

"Malfoys." Black snarled, loathing in his eyes.

"Damn it!" Blaise exclaimed. "I just realized, we're trapped in a shack with a bunch of prejudiced Gryffindors, an escaped convict and a werewolf!"

"One more thing to mark of my bucket list." drawled Daphne.

"Hold on." said Theo. "How did you teach? Dumbledore had to know about your lycanthropy."

"He knew." Lupin admitted.

Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf," Weasley gasped. "Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so," said Lupin. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy -"

"But you've been helping him!" Potter roared.

"I have not." he replied. "Now here, as a sign of trust." he tossed them all their wands. Hermione took it, and carefully without anyone noticing started to open her Potion box and look for the right potion.

"There," said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

"If you haven't been helping him, how did you know he was here?" Lupin asked.

"The map." Lupin replied, and Hermione started ignoring them. She had no idea what they were talking about.

"But I was under the Cloak?" Potter asked in confusion.

"The Map can still see you." replied Lupin. "And I saw you leave, and the Slytherins follow you. But you and Ron were with someone else.

"What?" said Potter. "No, we weren't!"

I couldn't believe my eyes,' said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Potter's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" said Potter.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black...I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow -"

"One of us!" Weasley said angrily.

"No, Ron," said Lupin. "Two of you."

He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Weasley.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Weasley. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him, please?"

Weasley hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Weasley had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise.

"That's Mr Ugly!" Theo pointed out cheerfully.

Every Gryffindor was jarred by this. "What?" Weasley asked.

"Mr Ugly." Hermione exclaimed. "Crooks found him and brought him to us as a house pet. He escaped a little after you guys attacked Draco."

"You held my rat hostage!" Weasley exclaimed furiously.

"It's a rat." Draco replied with derision.

Lupin moved closer to Weasley. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

"What?" Weasley said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean - of course he's a rat -"

"No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

Hermione stared at them all. "That means that he's illegal, because for our animagus essay in Transfiguration, I noted that there is no Rat Animagus in this century. It also means that he faked his death 12 years ago and probably framed Black for it, meaning that Black is innocent.

"How did you figure all that out from one statement?" Potter asked in disbelief.

"I have brains." Hermione drawled. After a few seconds, she realized something.

"Hold on, Pettigrew's records at school show that he had no brains. This means he probably had help. I'm betting that James Potter and Black were also animagus."

"James was a stag, and I a dog." Black said.

"Professor Snape was right!" said Draco. "We shouldn't trust you!"

"Snape?" said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers; for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well."

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons...you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me -"

"And he was right!" Hermione exclaimed. "What you've been teaching us is easy! The only good lessons we've had this year are boggarts and werewolves!"

Black made a derisive noise.

"It served him right," he sneered. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to...hoping he could get us expelled..."

"And this is why Slytherins hate Gryffindors. You lot are just as prejudiced if not more." Blaise snapped darkly.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told them. "We were in the same year, you know, and we - er - didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field...anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be - er - amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it - if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf - but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life...Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was..."

"As if!" Hermione sneered. "Professor Snape told me it was because Potter hexed him on his first day for acting like a slimy Slytherin."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Potter slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing directly at Lupin.

"Professor!" Hermione screamed, jumping up.

"Hello Miss Granger." he replied.

"Can we leave now?" Crabbe asked.

"He's right." said Goyle.

"Can we go?" Hermione asked. "Honestly, I don't give a damn about what happens after this, but know this: Lupin hasn't taken his wolfsbane."

"Don't you carry around an extra vial?" Snape asked.

"I do," Hermione smiled sweetly, "but I don't like Lupin much. I wonder what would make the headlines- Werewolf Professor at Hogwarts?"

Lupin looked sick, Black furious, and Potter angry. Snape looked proud. Then everything went to hell. The rat jumped out of Weasley's hands and ran. Black lunged at the rat but it escaped, and the full moon came up.

"He's transforming!" Hermione shrieked, paralyzed with fear.

"RUN!" Snape bellowed, and they ran. Hermione ran and ran and ran out of the Shack… straight into a squad of Dementors.

"No." Pansy whispered faintly, and Hermione barely heard her fall. There were hundreds of them.

And Hermione knew what she had to do. Closing her eyes, she truly felt inside herself for a moment when she was happy. And then she felt it. Her, after the hippogriff incident, curled up on a couch with Draco, feeling his soft gaze on her.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" she bellowed, and from her wand came a long avian shape. With a screech the dementors scattered, and Hermione got her first good look at her patronus. It was a phoenix.

Phoenixes were known for being loyal to their friends and judges of good character. They were smart and powerful. Hermione barely felt herself fall, too busy she was staring at her patronus, and she passed out from magical exhaustion.


	16. Chapter 16

When Hermione woke up, she was in the hospital wing. Next to her were cards from her friends, and a gorgeous silver bracelet that was shaped like a diamond biting it's tail. Along with it came a card from Pansy, Daphne, Vince, Greg, Blaise, Theo, and Draco thanking her for saving them. Then Professor Snape entered.

"Hello Professor." Hermione greeted. "What happened?"

"You passed out from magical exhaustion." he replied.

"And Black?" she asked.

"He escaped." Snape sneered. "Man flew away on a bloody hippogriff, but he's still a criminal. Potter managed to produce a fully fledged patronus in the shape of a stag and stop the dementors from kissing Black."

"That's good." Hermione said firmly. "Black can die, but not be dementors. That's cruel." and Hermione remembered something. "I produced my patronus!" she exclaimed.

"Indeed you did." he said lightly.

"Sir, Black said something about animagus at school. I want to do that. Can you help me?"

Snape just sighed and shook his head, wondering for the millionth time why he did this. "Why?"

"Because I want to be better than them." she said with a determined look.

"Very well. This summer I will send you your instructions." and he left.

Hermione was released after a few hours by Madame Pomfrey, and she went down to the dungeons. When she walked in, she was greeted by a torrent of applause. Bombarded with questions, Hermione ignored them all until she could join her friends, and Elan could shut them all up.

"What form does your patronus take?" he asked.

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione pronounced, and her phoenix came flying out. Now that Hermione wasn't tired, she could examine it properly. Her phoenix was large, with glowing feathers and a mischievous look.

"A phoenix?" Marcus teased. "Aren't they supposed to be signs of the light?"

"There are Dark Phoenixes." Adrian Pucey pointed out.

"Enough about that." Abraham Montague interrupted. "We win the House Cup!"

Cheering filled the room. The days continued. Lupin was fired because Hermione in her anger at Potter and Black had written a wonderful letter to Rita Skeeter.

Dear Rita,

I thought you would like to know that Remus Lupin is a werewolf. He is the defense against the dark arts teacher and a few nights ago he attacked me and my friends, chasing us into a pack of dementors, of which we barely escaped. Just a clue.

-Hermione

Werewolf at Hogwarts!

By Rita Skeeter.

If you have children at Hogwarts, do you know that they could be in danger? Headmaster Dumbledore, in his wisdom, has made Remus Lupin, werewolf, the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher for your children. He was bitten at age 5 by Fenrir Greyback, and continued on to attend Hogwarts. It is noted that he was best friends with mass murderer Sirius Black and might have had something to do with the break ins.

"He attacked no one!" Albus Dumbledore stressed, but he did.

A group of third year Gryffindor and Slytherins were chased by this werewolf, who was clearly bent on biting them. They barely managed to escape, but ran into a group of dementors. In an amazing show of magic, two of the students made corporeal patronuses to drive the dementors away.

I now leave it up to you. Should a werewolf be allowed to teach? Why did Dumbledore hire a werewolf? Is he getting in on his age? This is Rita Skeeter, concerned for your children.

"Remind me, how do you get her to do this?" Daphne laughed as she stared at the paper.

"All it took was a letter." Hermione said in a slightly smug voice.

The days went on. Though the weather was perfect, though the atmosphere was so cheerful, Hermione didn't want to go back to the Muggles. She preferred Malfoy Manor. The exam results came out on the last day of term. Hermione of course passed everything, and she now had a wonderful bag of runes to take home. Elan got top grade NEWTS. Flora and Hestia each achieved every OWL they wanted.

Meanwhile, largely thanks to the Gryffindors losing so many points, Slytherin finally regained the House Cup, though Gryffindor claimed the Quidditch Cup. This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of green and silver, and that the Slytherin table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated. They next day Hermione packed up, and got ready to sit on the train.

"We'll be back Crooks." Hermione cooed as she boarded the train. The train ride passed quickly and in high spirits. Their compartment was magically enlarged by Elan to fit the entire Quidditch team, him, Flora, Hestia, Hermione, and all her friends. Soon they reached the station, and Hermione got ready to go back to the Muggles; however, Draco took her hand and started dragging her to his parents.

"Draco, I have to go back home." she argued.

"No you don't!" he said with a cheerful grin. "You don't ever have to go back. Mum and Dad went there, took your belongings, and got their permission for you to spend the rest of the breaks with us!"

Hermione felt as though a weight had been lifted off her heart. She never had to go back. Ever.

"I think this summer is going to be amazing." she declared, and she set off with the Malfoys.


	17. Chapter 17

Miss Granger,

You asked about animagus training. I did this as a student and achieved my form. I am a hawk. Now then, the first step is to hold a mandrake leaf under your tongue for a month and meditate for at least an hour a day. The key to an animagus is unlocking your inner animal, and you must be in touch with your core, hence the meditation. Once you have found your form learn everything about it, and when you come back to Hogwarts we will start.

-Professor Snape

Hermione had been ecstatic to hear this. She had immediately pulled mandrake leaf out of her potions kit and put it under her tongue with a sticking charm. After, she had started her meditation.

It was hard. Hermione had a very hard time clearing her mind and searching her soul. After two weeks of meditation, Hermione finally found her inner core. It was a library. Hermione had to laugh at that. Each book was a memory, and the shelves were organized based on years of her life. The bottom shelves were the least important, and the top shelves the most. Hermione started wandering, looking for any animals.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she found a book on animagus. With trepidation, Hermione opened it. Inside was a picture of a Thunder Phoenix, with a deep blue body, sharp claws, and an affinity for lightning. Hermione had not expected this, but she liked it. Thunder phoenix tears were very rare, and had amazing healing powers; more so than fire phoenixes.

Dear Professor Snape,

I finished a month of meditation. I am a thunder phoenix, and the mandrake root is done. I will continue meditating and doing what you said.

-Hermione

The Quidditch World Cup was coming up.

"We're going to the cup!" Draco squealed, and Hermione had to hear about it for days.

Hermione had also been modelling more for Narcissa, and she was allowed to keep the clothes. Hermione got paid of course, and the account she had opened at Gringotts for herself had more than 200 galleons now. Hermione's pictures had become pretty popular too, and she was becoming one of the main models.

"How do you handle it?" Pansy asked her during a sleepover. "You want to be a Potions Mistress, and you model! You're becoming an animagus, you study healing, and you still find time to read!"

"Just time management." Hermione smiled at her friend.

Hermione pushed out of bed and pulled on some of the clothes Narcissa gave her- a white shirt, pants, and an amazing pair of deep green robes with black embroidery in the shape of phoenixes.

Noticing that Draco wasn't awake yet, Hermione marched into his room. Of course he was still sleeping. Hermione did her best not to notice the way his silvery hair shone, or the fact that his face was smooth and pale, his lips soft. Nope! Hermione wasn't thinking about that at all.

"WAKE UP!" she yelled, pulling the blanket off him. Oh, wait… he was wearing just boxers. Hermione immediately pulled the blanket back down, hoping he didn't notice, and proceeded to drench him with one of her water runes.

"What the hell Mione?" he spluttered, shaking the water out of his hair.

"The Quidditch world Cup." Hermione said, and he proceeded to run around the room like a hyperactive child. That boy and Quidditch.

Soon they were downstairs gripping a loose white handkerchief. It happened immediately: Hermione felt as though a hook just behind her navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. Her feet left the ground; she could feel Draco and Narcissa on either side of her, their shoulders banging into her's; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; her forefinger was stuck to the handkerchief as though it was pulling her magnetically onward and then -

She landed with a thump on grassy land, barely saving herself from falling, and needing steadying from Draco.

"Will anyone else come?" Hermione asked.

"Not any of our friends." he said. "But Marcus will probably be here."

Hermione just giggled. Obviously he would be here, he was a Quidditch fanatic.

"Won't we have to pay?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I payed in advance." replied Mr Malfoy. "We're already in the camp, just on the outskirts. Soon we will reach our tent. He was right. Soon they had reached the main camp.

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Hermione wondered on the sanity of wizards. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

Soon they reached a cream colored tent that looked like it would fit 10 if Hermione was camping. She followed them in, and looked around. The inside was a three room flat with 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room.

"Choose a room!" Mr Malfoy said in a genial voice, and Hermione immediately started racing with Draco to the dark green room. The other was light pink. Hermione reached there first, and immediately placed her bag down.

"No fair!" Draco pouted, giving her large puppy eyes.

"Nope!" Hermione laughed. "Take the pink room."

"Oppression!" he wailed dramatically. Hermione just shoved him out of the room.

A few hours later, after Hermione had been meditating, Mrs Malfoy called them down. Hermione pulled on a fancy red dress with Black trim(Bulgarian colors) and went down, her eyeshadow a little fancier than usual(darker red with Black on the sides) She was wearing clothes for Narcissa's fashion line again, and it would be the Bulgarian side of the line.

While Hermione was meditating, Mr Malfoy had gone out and bought them Omniculars and some Bulgarian gear. Hermione now wore a red rubberband with a giant black circle protruding from it, on which Viktor Krum's face was emblazoned. He was the Bulgarian Seeker.

They walked, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Hermione could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, she could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it. It was mammoth.

"Seats a hundred thousand." Mr Malfoy described. "A Ministry Task Force of 500 have been working on it for a year."

"Ministry Box!" yelled the witch who was checking tickets. "Up you go!"

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Hermione found herself in a box holding some of the most famous people in the Wizarding World.

"Ah Lucius!" exclaimed Minister Fudge, bringing with him two men. "And this must be your son Draco, and Narcissa, of course, always a pleasure, and … who is this?"

"Hermione Granger sir." she said with a small curtsey.

"Muggleborn?" he asked speculatively.

"Slytherin's first." she smiled proudly. He seemed to like her, for he smiled before starting introductions.

"This is Ivan Oblansk, the Bulgarian Minister for Magic. His son is friends with the Bulgarian Seeker Krum." The man looked to be a well built heavy set man with a giant mustache that Hermione thought was perfect for twirling and heavy eyebrows.

"And this is Aylannah Eavan. She is the Irish Minister for Magic." She was slight and lean, with short, shiny blonde hair and large blue eyes.

"Let us all sit down!" exclaimed Lucius, and they took their seats.

Hermione looked down from her box and saw a scene she never could have envisioned.A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Hermione's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Hermione saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burgler Buzzer...Mrs. Shower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!...Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade...

"Wow." Hermione breathed, and looking to her left Draco looked the same. At that point the Weasleys arrived, Potter with them. Hermione just sniffed and moved away from them. She giggled as she saw one of the Weasleys, Perry, she believed, bow so low to the Minister his glasses fell off. Idiot.

Then she saw him greet Potter like an old friend and she knew that once again, they were pushed away for him. Thankfully the Minister was a Slytherin and knew what life was like.

Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "Harry Potter...oh come on now, you know who he is...the boy who survived You-Know-Who...you do know who he is -"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

Hermione laughed, and winked at the man. From her small study of languages, she knew that the Bulgarian Minister was speaking nonsense, and that he understood and spoke English perfectly. The man winked back at her.

"What was that?'' Draco asked.

"The Bulgarian Minister speaks and understands English, he's just having the Minister on." she whispered, and Draco burst into guffaws. A few moments later, Ludo Bagman charged into the box. He was a large man with a shiny pink face. He wore yellow and black robes that bulged out quite a bit on his midsection, and his nose was crooked.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister - ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"Hmm," said Mr Malfoy, leaning forward, "Ah Veela!"

Hermione had read about Veela. They were gorgeous girls with amazing figures who had an allure that attracted all boys without mind protection. When mad, however, they turned into eagle like creatures that could throw fireballs. Veelas were weakest in water, and had a slight protection against fire.

A hundred veela walked out onto the field, and Hermione noticed Draco lean forward. She exchanged a small smirk with Narcissa. Boys. So predictable. They started dancing and Hermione realized just how beautiful they were. After a while, they stopped. Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air...for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it -

"Excellent!" yelled Draco as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Hermione realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Malfoy over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

That meant that this was leprechaun gold. It would disappear in a few hours.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"

Hermione focused her omnioculars on Krum. Viktor Krum was thin, with dark hair, and pale skin. He had a large curved nose and thick Black eyebrows. Hermione thought he was rather handsome. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Hermione noticed that they were all flying Firebolts, as was the entire Bulgarian team.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache to rival Minister Oblanks', wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Hermione watched closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (Hermione saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as Hermione had never seen it played before. She pressed her omnioculars to her nose. The speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

Hermione barely saw what was happening, but suddenly Bagman burst out, "TROY SCORES!" and the stadium burst into applause. "TEN - ZERO IRELAND!"

Glancing at the mascots, Hermione saw that the leprechauns watching from the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

Hermione knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were superb; they were models for the Slytherin Quidditch Team. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes.

"They're going to crash!" she screamed. Hermione was half-right; at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"YES!" Draco bellowed, doing a tiny victory dance. Hermione laughed and waved her Bulgarian Flag. This was WAY better than the school games.

"That was called the Wronski Feint." Mr Malfoy told them.

Hermione focused her omnioculars on Krum. He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything Hermione had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier.

As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Hermione didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told her it had been a foul.

"THAT WASN'T A FOUL!" Draco bellowed angrily.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing - excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!"

The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

"Look at the referee!" Hermione giggled, tugging on Draco's arm.

Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; Hermione, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"Idiot." said Mrs Malfoy derisively. "You don't yell at Veela."

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before...Oh this could turn nasty...

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms...yes...there they go...and Troy takes the Quaffle..."

"That's illegal!" Draco yelled in fury, and Hermione pushed him back into his seat.

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a giant middle finger at the Veela. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through his Omnioculars, Hermione saw that they didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders -

"Awesome!" Draco gushed, and Hermione laughed.

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. Hermione turned this way and that, staring through her Omnioculars, as the Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov -

The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and Harry couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

"Someone has to notice he's injured!" said Hermione worriedly.

"Look at Lynch!" Draco yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Hermione was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing...

"He's seen the Snitch!" Draco shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on...but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Hermione had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again -

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.

"They're not!" roared Draco.

"Lynch is!" yelled Hermione.

And she was right - for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Draco.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Mr Malfoy.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Draco bellowed.

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Hermione shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good...He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all...

"I'm glad to see good sportsmanship." said Mr Malfoy approvingly.

"I don't care who won!" Hermione scoffed. "That was the best thing I've ever seen!"

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind her. She looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch.

Draco stared at him in awe as he passed. And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval.

Hermione saw the pure happiness on his face, and knew this- this was amazing. They slowly walked back to the tent, Draco excitedly going over the game.

"Will we be staying the night?" Hermione asked.

"No we won't." he muttered, before clearing his throat and speaking louder. "I have arranged a Portkey back home."

"Aaw, come on!" Draco pouted, but with a small glare from his father he took hold of the mangy coat and they Portkeyed home.

That night, Hermione washed her face and lay the dress out, so tired that she just dropped asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

The next day at Breakfast Hermione looked at the newspaper, and the picture of the Dark Mark on it. Mr Malfoy and Mrs Malfoy were looking at her worriedly, and Draco was pale.

Hermione spoke up. "Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy, I will stay be you. If he returns," she was talking about the Dark Lord, "I will join him. You're my family."

Mrs Malfoy looked at Hermione with a large smile before hugging her. "Thank you Hermione." she said, and that was the end of the matter.

A few days later Hermione received a letter from a Great Black Owl, and the family stared at it.

"That's Severus's owl." Mr Malfoy muttered. Hermione shook it off and opened the letter.

NEWTS

Potions… … … … … . … . . . . O

Hermione froze, staring at the paper with bug eyes. After a minute, Draco got worried and got up to see what the letter was. When he saw it, he too froze, staring at it with bug eyes, before recovering.

"Hermione?" Mrs Malfoy asked in concern. Hermione shook herself out of her stupor. NEWTS!

"I - I -O- NEWTS - Potions." she stuttered.

"Hermione took her Potions NEWTS last year and got an O!" Draco exclaimed.

"Congratulations." smiled Mr Malfoy genuinely. Hermione couldn't believe it.

A few weeks later it was time to go to Hogwarts, and Hermione passed the barrier from Platform 9 & ¾. She looked at the Hogwarts Express and grinned as she saw Pansy waving to her.

"Hey Pans!" she waved, and she was pulled onto the express into their usual compartment.

"How was the game?" she asked, and Hermione grinned.

"Amazing!" she gushed. "The players move so fast and Krum was really good at tricking Lynch into performing the Wronski feint and …"

It went on for ten minutes before their other friends entered the compartment. The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Hermione bought a large stack of cauldron cakes for them to share.

"Want to go annoy Weasel and Potter?" Draco asked eagerly. Hermione looked around, noticing that Pansy, Blaise, Daphne, and Theo were all asleep.

"Sure." she shrugged. They walked to his compartment, and heard him say, ""We saw him right up close, as well. We were in the Top Box -"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley." Draco cut in. Hermione looked around the compartment and noticed that Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and Ginny Weasley were also sitting in the compartment.

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Potter coolly.

"Really?" Hermione mocked. "I could have sworn you gave me a beautiful invitation, edged in golden lace."

"Weasley...what is that?" said Draco, pointing at a cage holding a tiny fur ball. A moldy lace cuff was attached to a sleeve that was hanging from Weasley's trunk.

Weasley made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Draco was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

"Look at this!" said Draco in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety..."

"Mrs Malfoy showed me a pair like those." Hermione said. "They're meant for girls. Are you sure they aren't the Weaselette's?"

Ginny Weasley's face turned red.

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Weasley, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Draco's grip. Hermione and Draco howled with derisive laughter, and Vince and Greg guffawed.

When they reached Hogwarts, it was raining heavily. "Warming and Drying Charms!" she yelled like always. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.

"Stupid rain!" Daphne grumbled. Hermione noticed that she had on extra fancy eyeshadow and lipstick for the feast like always. Pansy had added some silver to her Black, Daphne was now wearing eyeliner and darker lipstick, and Hermione had just darkened her lip gloss a little. They bundled into the castle

"I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather." Pansy said fervently. Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Into the hall they hurried, just in time to see Peeves bombard Weasel with water balloons.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall had come bounding in in anger, nearly slipping and falling on the water.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves -"

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here.

"How's Elan?" Hermione asked Pansy as she sat down.

"Wonderful." she smirked. "He got the position of Junior Undersecretary, but he has to deal with Weasley," Pansy made a sour face, "As his assistant. Fortunately, Weasley also has to obey my brother, who takes great pleasure in driving him mad.

"Where's the DADA teacher?" Blaise wondered. They had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Hermione scanned the table carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was Professor Snape. On his other side was an empty seat for McGonagall.

Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. Hermione thought the man was a loon, and hated him. She glanced up at the ceiling. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and she had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Hurry up. I'm hungry." moaned Crabbe and Hermione punched him lightly as a signal to shut up.

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If the students were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school - all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Hermione recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited.

"Gryffindork." Theo murmered pointing at the boy.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

A thousand years or more ago,

When I was newly sewn,There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still well known:

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin, from fin.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,

They hatched a daring plan

To educate young sorcerers

Thus Hogwarts School began.

Now each of these four founders

Formed their own house, for each

Did value different virtues

In the ones they had to teach.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest;

For Ravenclaw, the cleverest

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

And power-hungry Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

While still alive they did divide

Their favorites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones

When they were dead and gone?

Twas Gryffindor who found the way,

He whipped me off his head

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead!

Now slip me snug about your ears,

I've never yet been wrong,

I'll have a look inside your mind

And tell where you belong!

"This year's song is pretty good." Blaise said as they clapped.

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione grinned as he came to sit with the other firsties. Malcolm Baddock had a big brother in the house named Logan Baddock, a 6th year prefect.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming - a misleading impression, for he was an idiot.

"Knew he'd be a Gryffindor." Theo muttered.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

The hat was now sorting Emma Dobbs, who ended up a Ravenclaw. Tracy Davis's little sister Lynn joined them.

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Goyle moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Not everything's about food!" Hermione glared. "You could be Weasley with that stomach."

Laura Madley became a Hufflepuff. Natalie McDonald joined the Gryffindors.

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"Finally!" said Crabbe, getting ready for food. Dumbledore rose. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

Hermione dug into her meal, laughing with Daphne as they watched Pansy berate the boys and push vegetables onto their plates. She was a complete mother hen.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What!" Draco gasped, looking aghast at the idea.

Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Hermione had ever looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words she couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Hermione saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time...no..." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Draco was smirking appreciatively.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"The Goblet of Fire." Hermione murmured, already knowing the answer from her reading.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This -" Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Carrow twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Flora and Hestia's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

Hermione walked upstairs and got ready for bed, pulling on a giant t-shirt and a pair of booty shorts.

"Would you want to enter?" Daphne asked as she combed her hair.

"I would never want to." she scoffed, before turning over and going to bed.

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Hermione looked at her course schedule, not even needing Professor Snape to tell her the usual: Potions on Thursday and Animagus on Tuesday.

"Today's not bad...outside all morning," said Theo, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures...damn it, we're still with the Gryffindors..."

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Artemis and Royal flew through carrying the usual packages of sweets from the Malfoys, but Hermione was surprised to see one addressed to her.

"You're family." said Draco sincerely, laying a hand on hers. Hermione smiled gratefully before stowing it in her bag.

"Eat breakfast first!" Pansy scolded, pulling the box of candy away from Draco who was ready to dig in.

Hermione's happiness at being included in the Malfoy family lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable patch until they arrived in greenhouse three, but here she was distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants Hermione had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -"

"The what?" said Tracy Davis, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Davis, pus," said Professor Sprout, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints. Hermione quickly pocketed a pint, and her friends looked at her questioningly.

"This stuff is excellent for pranks, and good in potions." she muttered.

"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

"She was an idiot." Pansy giggled, and laughing they all went of to Care Of Magical Creatures.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

"Mornin!" Hagrid grinned. "Wait fer the Gryffinders, they won' wan' to miss der Blast Ended Skrewts!"

Hermione looked down at the crates and squealed in horror, jumping back.

They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"Why on earth would we want to raise these?" Draco asked in disgust.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

"I mean, what do they do?" asked Draco. "What is the point of them?"

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds' pause, then he said roughly, "Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake - just try 'em out with a bit of each."

Instead of doing what was required, Hermione and her friends just milled around the bins, every once in awhile throwing frog liver or ant eggs into the box.

"Ouch!" yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. "It got me."

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.

"Its end exploded!" said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.

"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding.

"Eurgh!" said Lavender Brown again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"

"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). "I reckon they're the males...The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies...I think they might be ter suck blood."

"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Blaise sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"

After the lesson they all went down to lunch, Hermione all ready to complain about the Blast Ended Skrewts. After lunch she went up to Ancient Runes, and got ready for the days lesson. She wasn't disappointed. Now they would be learning about the Runes themselves, and how they channeled magic and how to create your own runes.

After class Draco approached her, waving a paper about Weasley's father before giong over there to taunt him.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!" he called.

"What?" said Weasley shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Draco, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Draco looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" Hermione crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Draco straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Draco, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

"She's rather fat." Hermione giggled.

Weasley was shaking with fury.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Potter. "C'mon, Ron..."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Draco. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Potter, "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Draco's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Potter, turning away.

BANG!

Draco had pulled out his wand and shot a curse at Potter, barely missing him. There was another large BANG!

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Hermione spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Draco had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Potter - at least, his normal eye was looking at Potter; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.

"No," said Potter, "missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Leave - what?" Potter said, bewildered.

"Not you - him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

"This is against the law." Hermione snapped coldly. Moody ignored her.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."

"Stop!" Hermione shrieked, pulling out her own wand. "STOP!"

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

"Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach - Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

Hermione rushed to him, starting to heal his bruises from being bounced around on the stone floor.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall weakly. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

"No you won't." Hermione spoke boldly.

"What?" he asked, his eye spinning towards her. She stood her ground.

"No you won't." she repeated.

"And why is that?" he asked, a mocking grin on his face.

"Because I've read all the school rules, and what you just did is against the school rules. I could easily send a letter to the Board of Governors telling them about this, and they could bring you up. Or I could pen a letter to Rita Skeeter telling her about what you did." Hermione paused to lick her lips. "All the parents would wonder- is Mad- Eye Moody madder than usual? Is he fit to teach our kids? So no, you won't, or your job will be on tenderhooks."

"You wouldn't dare." Moody growled, limping forward, the mocking smile on his face gone.

"Try me." she snarled, and there was a great 'Oooohhhhh' from the crowd of students. Hermione wondered for a moment what she was doing, facing off against the best Auror of their time.

Hermione expected Moody to take points or glare, but she didn't expect him to laugh; but he laughed, a great booming, rough laughter, before calming down. "Thirty points to Slytherin." he said calmly.

"What?" Hermione asked, stunned.

"WHY?" Weasley shouted.

"For spunk." he said. "Not many students would be willing to do that, but she did. That's the sort of attitude I want from students." and he limped off, leaving the rest of the students staring at him as though he had grown a second head.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms. She left, leaving the students there.

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Longbottom melting his sixth cauldron in Potions.

"Idiot." Hermione scorned in her Potions lesson that Thursday.

"Yes indeed Mrs Granger." Snape said. "Now while you are with me we will be working on attaining your Potions Mastery. To attain this you must create a potion of your own. I created Veritaserum for mine. What potion would you like to create?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "I rather want to create a potion that will counteract the effects of the Cruciatus Curse."

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. "An ambitious project. Very well, I want you to first research on the Cruciatus Curse before even starting this. Now during our Potions lessons in class I don't want you wasting your time brewing, so I will allow you to spend that time researching for this project."

Animagus was even worse. Hermione and Snape were in a room with scented calming oils, and Hermione closed her eyes.

"Retreat deep into your mindscape." came Snape's droning voice. "Find your creature. Bring it alive. Talk to it. Gain it's trust until you can merge with it. You and the animal must become one. Wreathed in thunder and power."

Hermione closed her eyes and found her thunder phoenix like always. She opened the book, and as Snape instructed, ripped out the page, bringing him to life. She was majestic, large and blue with thunder crackling from her feathers.

"Hello." said Hermione softly. "I'm Hermione. What's your name?"

I am Ankaa.

"You're beautiful." Hermione whispered, cooing.

And that was how Hermione's evenings went. She would sit down in her mindscape and talk, play, fly with Ankaa, before sleeping. Everyday she woke up refreshed, and every day Ankaa trusted her more. Hermione could now sprout a tail and a beak.

Potions lessons were good. The first class was the only one in which Hermione had trouble. Instead of pulling out her cauldron and brewing the Pepperup potion, she had pulled out her book and read.

"Hey!" Weasley had complained. "Why isn't she brewing?"

"For you information Weasley," Hermione replied coldly, "I already know how. Last year I passed my Potions NEWTS with an O, so right now I am working on my Mastery."

Weasley had been unable to respond to that, and Hermione had continued reading.

The Cruciatus Curse is one of the 3 unforgivables curses. It causes extreme pain and targets all the nerves in the body. The nerves are part of the Nervous system, which connects the entire body in what you do. The Cruciatus targets 6 of the main nerves- the brain, heart, legs, arms, eyes, and ears. The Cruciatus Curse also causes internal bleeding.

Hmm .This meant that Hermione would really have to create a potion to calm the nerves. She would also have to brew a potion to stop internal bleeding. This would be a hard one. At the end of class the Slytherins trooped up to Moody's class for Defense against the Dark Arts.

They hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."

They returned the books to their bags, Draco looking excited.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures - you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark Curses."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So - straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful."

"So...do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Hermione, Theo, and surprisingly Crabbe's. Moody pointed at Crabbe.

"The Imperius Curse." he said softly.

"That's right." Moody said.

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing - everyone except Moody.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."

Hermione gave a small shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody. ""Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

Hermione immediately noted that he said they would fight the curse. She would be researching that.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Hermione, Blaise, and Pansy's hands rose in the air.

"Parkinson." he said.

"The Cruciatus Curse." she said in a small but distinct voice.

"Correct."

Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Hermione watched intently, needing to understand the curse for her potion.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Hermione was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently -

Hermione was starting to understand. It gave such pain to the nerves that it's brain only panicked, and the body started trying to heal it leaving other parts without protection, hence the internal bleeding. So what she needed was a potion to calm the nerves and brain, which would help the body stop the internal bleeding by itself. A calming potion wouldn't work, that was only aimed at the mind.

"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse...That one was very popular once too.

"Right...anyone know any others?"

Hermione raised her hand for the third time. "Avada Kedavra." she said stoutly. "The Killing Curse."

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra...the Killing Curse."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air - instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Hermione gasped.

"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it - you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.

"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

"Now...those three curses - Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus - are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills...copy this down..."

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang - but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices - "Did you see it twitch?" "- and when he killed it - just like that!"

"That was amazing!" Daphne said in hushed awe. That evening at dinner, Flora and Hestia walked up to them with their friend Carina Avery.

"Moody." Flora said. "He'll practice the Imperius on you. Be prepared." and on that ominous note, they walked away.


	19. Chapter 19

That weekend Hermione found herself locked in the girls bathroom with Pansy and Daphne.

"What are we doing?" she scowled.

"Since the Triwizard Tournament is coming, we want to dress up, so we'll be adding highlights to our hair. Permanently." said Pansy.

Hermione stared at her like she had grown a second head. "You want to add color to my hair permanently?" she asked slowly.

"It's different from the muggle way!" said Daphne impatiently. "For one it's just a modified color changing charm, so it isn't bad for your hair."

"Fine!" Hermione said, throwing up her hands in defeat. There was no getting away from these two.

"We're doing Pansy first." said Daphne, holding out a bottle of potion. "All we have to do is apply the potion to her hair where we want it. Now, what color?"

Hermione studied Pansy's hair. It was a sleek glossy black. "I'm thinking dark brown." said Hermione.

"You're the boss." Daphne grinned, and pulling out the potion she rubbed it in streaks through Pansy's hair. "Now leave it in for an hour before going to wash." she instructed.

"Daphne next!" said Pansy. "What color?"

Hermione this time studied Daphne's hair. She had long, straight, golden blonde locks. "Red." she said finally.

Pansy rubbed the potion into Daphne's hair, before seating Hermione. Hermione could hear the two girls whispering, before putting potion in her hair.

"What color?" she asked curiously.

"Blonde." said Daphne.

When an hour was up and Hermione washed her hair, she gasped in shock. It looked wonderful. She now had dark brown, light brown, and dark blonde in her hair. Pansy now had sleek dark brown mixed into her glossy black. Daphne's was the most different, but she looked beautiful.

"You all look wonderful." Blaise purred when he saw them.

When the three girls walked into the Great Hall a few people stared at them, before complimenting them and going back to their meals. Hermione talked to Professor Snape next Potions lesson.

"Professor, how would one resist the Imperius?" she asked.

"You retreat into your landscape." he said. "When in happens a tendril of magic will seep into your mindscape, and you must resist it. If it expands and fills your landscape, you are under control." he replied. "And Miss Granger? Excellent hair color."

Hermione's animagus lessons had expanded immensely, and she now was mostly concentrating on her inner organs. She had almost everything else down.

Next DADA Moody put the Imperius on them.

"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Millicent Bulstrode uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Millicent and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

Milli turned pink before retreating. Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Hermione watched as her classmates did extraordinary things. Pansy spoke fluent Japanese. Theo barked like a dog. Draco danced like a ballerina. Then it was Hermione's turn.

"Granger." Moody beckoned her with a gnarled finger. Hermione moved into the middle of the room where space had been cleared.

"Imperio!" he said. Hermione felt like she was floating, like nothing was wrong.

Kiss Draco Malfoy. Kiss Draco Malfoy

Hermione stayed where she was, before finding her mindscape. She saw Ankaa batting away at Moody's magic, and she joined the fight.

The magic is powerful! Ankaa shrieked.

"How do we stop it?" Hermione asked as she pushed away at the magic. Outside to others she was in a trance.

We must bond.

Before Hermione knew what was happening Ankaa flew straight into her, and Hermione felt a heat in her chest. Then pain. Excruciating pain. Hermione shrieked as she started transforming into a thunder phoenix. The magical backlash pushed Moody away.

Outside, the others saw Hermione rise up, surrounded by her aura, before she flared blue. Her arms sprouted feathers. Her head shrunk and her nose turned into a beak. Her legs became smaller and she grew a tail. Then there was a flash of thunder and Hermione pushed all her magic away. She was thunder! She was air! She was powerful!

Hermione turned back into a human, before landing on the ground and sinking away into a faint. When Hermione woke up she was still in the classroom, and by her calculation, it had only been a few seconds.

"There!" Moody exclaimed. "Miss Granger has done it! Tell them how."

The entire class turned to stare at her, and Hermione took a deep breath. "I retreated. I retreated into my mindscape, which can only be found through meditation. I battled Moody's magic, and unfortunately during that time our magics didn't react well. Now that I know how I could do it without the light show, but the first time I expended myself."

"Excellent. 50 points to Slytherin." and Moody moved on.

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told them, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer -"

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Daphne Greengrass indignantly.

"Maybe not, but all the preparation will do!"

Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

Hagrid's smile faded off his face.

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book...I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

"We'll get our revenge." Hermione murmured, and with a soft smile Draco continued on. Hermione had now added more people to her list of people TO KILL. Hagrid. Dumbledore. Hermione walked to the Great Hall.

When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Blaise, the tallest of the group, read the sign aloud to them.

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY. STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

"Who do you think will enter?" asked Daphne.

"Adrian Bucey and Derrick Bole are." said Hermione.

"Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff, and Angelina Johnson from Gryffindor." said Pansy.

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Hermione went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

Hermione noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.

Hermione went down to her animagus lesson one evening, and met Professor Snape.

"You have done outstanding Miss Granger. Animagus transformation in 5 months is nothing to hide. Even I took nearly a year. Now you must practice. Every morning I recommend flying in your form. I will join you at the beginning to help you fly."

The next morning Hermione woke up early, got ready, and walked up to the Astronomy Tower. She looked at the edge and how high the drop was. With a smirk, she jumped off and transformed. Hermione soared through the sky, crowing with laughter. Catching a draft she wrapped her wings around herself and spiraled up, before stopping. This was life! She was so high, and could see everything; Hermione could see miles of the Forbidden Forest and the entirety of Hogwarts. With a crackle of thunder she flew back to the Astronomy Tower, transformed, and went down.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffiindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

"The Snake's the best." said Draco bossily, and Hermione grinned.

"Who'll be the judges?" Draco asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

"Swot." said Theo playfully.

"Moron." Hermione bantered, before returning to her strawberries and cream.

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; and when the bell rang Hermione and her friends dashed down the the dungeons to straighten up. Pansy applied silver to her eyeshadow, Daphne put eyeliner on, and so did Hermione, along with darkening her lip gloss shade and using magic to pull her hair into a feather braid.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Miss Davis stop messing with your hair, Crabbe put away the pumpkin pasty." Snape ordered. Hermione stifled a giggle. Vince was always eating.

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest.

"How do you think they will arrive?" Blaise asked.

"Flying carriage and Ship." said Hermione.

"Which book did you read that in this time?" Draco teased.

"I didn't read it anywhere." she snarked. "I just asked Professor Snape."

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers -

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey, a 1st year Gryffindor.

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash , the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Abraxan horses. Hermione had read about them. They were immensely magical and only answered to giants or half giants. This mean that their headmistress was half giant. They were also incredibly rare, and Hermione found herself lucky to be able to see one.

Hermione just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully.

Then Hermione saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman she had ever seen in her life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped. This explained the Abraxans.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers. Hermione thought she was quite magnificent.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Hermione noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.

Stepping forward to the surprise of others, she waved her whispering a few spells. Their thin silk clothes quickly were transfigured into thicker but still beautiful warm silk robes, and a few warming charms were placed on them too.

"Thank you." said one of the girls, a beautiful blonde. Hermione stepped back with a small smile.

"So nice." Pansy muttered. "One might think you're a Hufflepuff."

"As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling. Hermione doubted it.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"Single malt whiskey?" Daphne muttered, and Hermione stifled a giggle.

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then - a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed...

"The lake!" yelled a Gryffindor, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks -and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

"There's the ship." Hermione said, watching as it rose. It was a majestic sight.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

The people disembarking were all well built, wearing thick furs. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts…" his grin did nothing to hide his yellowed teeth. "Now, can we get it? Viktor has a slight head cold."

Hermione already knew who the student was, and didn't need a punch to recognize it, nor the whisper in her ear from Draco, "It's Krum!"

"I know it it. Didn't you know he still attended school?" Hermione said. All her friends shook their heads. "Read some books!" she said exasperatedly.

As they entered the hall they sat down in their usual seats. The Durmstrang students joined them, and Viktor Krum, with his friends sat with Hermione and her friends.

"Draco Malfoy." he introduced himself.

"Viktor Krum, and this is Iliya Romanov and his twin sister Natasha."

"Pleasure." Hermione said with a grin. "Hermione Granger, and this is Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle."

"I did not know Hogwarts had such pretty ladies." said Iliya. He was tall and dark haired, with piercing grey eyes like his sister. The only difference was their hair length.

Daphne and Pansy giggled, as did Flora and Hestia who were sitting with them, while Hermione just grinned and replied, "It doesn't. Only Slytherin has the pretty girls."

Iliya laughed a little.

"You do not flirt or giggle." Viktor observed.

"That's because I don't care to." Hermione said flippantly.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Hermione had ever seen. She noted that the Durmstrang students immediately went for a few dishes that she didn't recognize.

"What are those?" she questioned.

"Traditional Bulgarian dishes." said Viktor.

"Which ones would you recommend?"

He pointed her towards a delicious looking soup. Hermione tried it and her eyes widened.

"This is good!" she said. "Try it!" she passed it to Theo, who sipped it before his eyes also widened.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.

Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch had joined Dumbledore at the high table. Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"

"What?" Blaise asked.

"The Goblet of Fire." said Hermione. "I read up on it. It is a magical artifact that is the chooser of who competes in the Triwizard Tournament. A competitor writes their name and school on paper before throwing the slip into the flames. Then the Goblet chooses who would be the best candidate out of all the people at their school. It can't be cheated unless by a very powerful wizard or Confundus Charm. It was created by Rowena Ravenclaw herself for the Tournament. The first Tournament was between the 4 Founders before they reduced it to three. Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff tied. The first Task generally has to do with a magical creature, and involves a clue for the second task." Hermione then noticed that the entire table was listening to her attentively and staring.

"You are a smart girl Miss Granger." said Viktor Krum, and Hermione smiled softly, before turning her attention back to the main table.

"- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways.. their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. As of this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun."


End file.
